


Running Away From Her...

by LilyOrchard, MikailaT



Series: Anevay Darkflare - Horde Champion [12]
Category: Warcraft - All Media Types, World of Warcraft
Genre: F/F, Forced Marriage, Grief/Mourning, Heteronormativity, Military Training, Political Marriage, Running Away, Suicide Attempt, Useless Lesbians
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-29
Updated: 2020-11-11
Packaged: 2021-03-09 03:33:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 42,538
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27257992
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LilyOrchard/pseuds/LilyOrchard, https://archiveofourown.org/users/MikailaT/pseuds/MikailaT
Summary: Decades before she was the bane of Titans, Anevay was a meek noblegirl being forcibly married against her will for the sake of her family's ambitions.
Relationships: Dark Ranger Alina (Warcraft)/Original Female Character(s), Jaina Proudmoore/Sylvanas Windrunner
Series: Anevay Darkflare - Horde Champion [12]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1939501
Comments: 65
Kudos: 80





	1. I'll Be Completely Miserable Either Way

**Forty Years Before The First War**

Anevay sighed as she followed her mother into the house. The Meadowbriar household was an uncomfortable place. It smelled of Bloodthistle all the time, and the way everyone who lived there stared at her like she was cattle was unnerving.  Then again, she thought, she supposed she  _ was  _ cattle.

For as long as she could remember, she was betrothed to the Meadowbriar’s youngest son, Lyrin. Of course, ‘youngest’ was still about a hundred and fifty years older than her. Her entire life, her mother had been planning for this marriage to secure her future. And her mother’s plans were all she knew. She hadn’t been allowed to play outside as a girl, she hadn’t been allowed to be around other children, get dirty, or even attend school outside of private lessons in her home.  Now she was twenty, and her life was about to end in just a few days.

“Enzaria! Darling!” Madame Meadowbriar exclaimed joyfully as she descended down the spiraling staircase to approach them. Everything she wore looked as though it cost a fortune. A luxurious silk robe that looked damn near luminescent. Golden jewelry adorned with rare gems. Hell even her hair looked expensive with how painstakingly styled it was. “So delighted to see you again! And you, Anevay! My, you have grown since the last time I’ve seen you!” 

“T-thank you, Madame Meadowbriar,” Anevay responded timidly. 

“Oh, and so soft spoken!” the woman of the house praised. “Lyrin will surely be pleased.” 

Anevay scowled slightly and turned away, muttering something unintelligible under her breath. As she looked out the window, she saw a few Rangers passing through the street on a regular patrol. She leaned against the glass as she watched the two women walk by, completely transfixed by them.  Anevay had known she liked girls since she was nine, when she saw the Ranger-General at a victory parade and stared at her for so long her mother had to smack her to get her attention. Since then, she knew her mother’s plans for her were just wrong, and what she really wanted for her life.

She was always enraptured by the Rangers. They had such strength and grace about them. Being in their presence, however rare such an occasion was, always made her feel safe. She didn’t just want them. She wanted to  _ be _ them. She would have given anything to be like them.  Not that she had much to give at any rate. 

“Anevay, get away from that window and come join us in the dining hall!” Enzaria called out, her polite tone definitely having a warning edge to it. “Our hosts have been gracious enough to prepare us a meal!”

Anevay jumped in surprise and turned away from the window, nodding silently as she followed her mother to the hall. She sat down beside her and kept her eyes to the table, refusing to look at anybody. 

“So, how are the girl’s lessons coming along?” Madame Meadowbriar asked.

“They’ve been… coming,” Enzaria said with a strained smile. “Anevay isn’t the most attentive girl, so progress has been slow. She can bake a quiche at the very least.”

“Well that’s not bad. You love quiche, Lyrin,” Madame Meadowbriar said. 

“Not for every meal, mother,” Lyrin scoffed, eyeing Anevay as he sipped from his goblet. 

“Well worry not!” Enzaria said, reinforcing her smile. “We still have plenty of time to iron out the wrinkles before the wedding!”

The wedding, Anevay shivered at the very mention of it. It was to be held in Sunfury Spire in a few days, and Anevay kept wondering if she could petition King Anastarian for protection from her mother. Forced marriages had been illegal in Quel’thalas for the last fifteen years, thanks to a great amount of pressure on Anastarian by the new Ranger-General at the time. But the laws were written in such a way that coercion, blackmail and contracts were still useful tools by nobility to ensure their political moves. Anevay had been coerced into signing an agreement when she was five, which was still legally binding unless she could find a way out of it.

Alas, she was not privy to the extents of the law herself and she had no access to anyone who could advise her. Great lengths were taken by her mother to ensure that she couldn’t back out of this. 

“And how soon can we expect grandchildren?” Lord Meadowbriar asked. 

“Oh, right away I would imagine,” Enzaria said with that signature smile. “My daughter is plenty fertile and she has a very nurturing nature.” 

“She very well better,” Lyrin muttered into his goblet. 

Anevay cast a scathing look toward Lyrin and sipped her water. When she put it down, she glanced at her mother. “Minn’da, may I be excused? It’s very warm in here…”

“Anevay, don’t be silly,” Enzaria chided. “It’s absolutely lovely in here.” 

Anevay hung her head and glanced toward the window, seeing the Rangers from before turning down the street. She leaned on her hand, watching them eagerly as they walked away. The poise, the control, those hips swaying with each step…

“ _ Anevay, _ ” Enzaria said firmly, snapping her daughter out of her trance. She fought to keep a smile on her face even as Anevay looked startled and confused at her. “I believe Madame Meadowbriar asked you a question.” 

“Huh?” Anevay said, turning around and looking between her mother and the Madame. “Uh… I’m sorry, what was the question? I was… distracted.”

“Well that’s no good,” Lord Meadowbriar tutted. “A good wife cannot be so easily distracted.” 

His brow furrowed at Enzaria, whose heart began to sink. She knew that the moment Anevay and Lyrin were out of earshot, they were going to be renegotiating the fare they would pay her to marry her daughter. It was not a conversation Enzaria was looking forward to having. 

“As I was saying, deary,” Madame Meadowbriar began, looking at Anevay. “Do you have a preference as to whether you and Lyrin spend your honeymoon in Silvermoon or at our Manor on the coast?”

Anevay shrugged. “It makes no difference to me, Madame Meadowbriar.” Then, she felt a surge of daring course through her. “I’ll be completely miserable either way.”

Lyrin spat out his wine, shooting Anevay an outraged look. “Excuse me!?”

“Quite a mouth on that one,” Lord Meadowbriar huffed, narrowing her eyes at Enzaria. 

The mother’s face was white with panic. With all scrutinizing gazes locked on the two of them, she extended an elbow out and ‘accidentally’ spilled Anevay’s wine over her dress. 

“Oh, my goodness! Anevay, you klutz!” she chided, suddenly pulling her daughter out of her chair to look at the deep purple stain she put on her gown. “Please excuse us! I must get my daughter cleaned up!” She flashed them all that same, impossibly forced smile as she yanked Anevay out of the dining hall.

Anevay said nothing else as she was hauled out of the hall and out of the house completely and onto the front step. 

“What the hell was that in there, young lady?!” Enzaria demanded. “I know I raised you better than that!”

“I don’t want to get married!” Anevay said emphatically. “I hate that man! I feel nothing for him!”

“You little ingrate!” Enzaria snapped, swiping an open palm against Anevay’s cheek with a loud crack. “It’s not about love! It’s about our family finally living comfortably for once! We have a chance to actually make something of the Darkflare house and you are so selfishly trying to fuck it up!?”

Anevay’s cheek stung, and was bleeding from where Enzaria’s ring cut into the skin. She clapped a hand to her cheek and looked up at her mother, both afraid and angry. “Minn’da, please! I don’t want to-”

“Excuse me?”

They turned their heads to see two more Rangers walking up the front step. One of them had her hood drawn, the other had an arrow nocked.

“Is everything alright, Miss?” the hooded Ranger asked as she looked at Anevay.

Enzaria’s eyes were wide with newly refreshed panic as she stood between Anevay and the Ranger and gave her that signature smile. “Oh, everything is perfectly alright!” she insisted. “My daughter was just… just feeling faint and fell down inside! We just stepped out to give her some fresh air.” 

“Come here, sweetie,” the Ranger said softly, beckoning Anevay over.

Anevay stepped around her mother and timidly looked up at the Ranger. The Ranger then laid a hand over her cheek and brushed a thumb over the cut. Anevay’s cheeks flushed a bright red and her heart felt like it was going to break through her chest.

“That’s not too bad. You shouldn’t need sutures at any rate,” she said. Rather than take her hand away, she trailed her fingers down Anevay’s cheek and across her chin before withdrawing, giggling at the reaction it elicited.

“She will likely need water if she’s feeling faint,” the Ranger said to Enzaria, her expression sobering greatly. “Perhaps some Mana Wine, even.” 

“Yes, of course,” Enzaria said with an impossibly wide grin as she tried to tug Anevay back. “Thank you so much for your time, miss…?”

“Kalira Sundreamer,” the Ranger nodded. “Your daughter is quite beautiful, Lady Darkflare.”

Anevay clapped her hands over her mouth, her cheeks flushed a deep red.

“Yes, yes, quite beautiful,” Enzaria said, pulling Anevay back to her side. “And quite  _ engaged _ . She is going to make a lovely bride in just a few days.” 

“Oh really?” Kalira asked, looking at Anevay. “Who’s the lucky lady?”

Anevay’s blush faded slightly and she suddenly looked very uncomfortable. “Um…”

“It’s actually Lord Meadowbriar’s youngest son,” Enzaria corrected as her smile grew even more strained. “We’re joining our houses.”

“Are you?” Kalira asied, a slight frown crossing her features as she looked between the both of them. “How curious.” 

“Well anyway, thank you so much for your time, Miss Sundreamer!” Enzaria exclaimed. “My daughter and I won’t take up any more of your time!” 

“Well if everything’s alright,” Kalira nodded, turning to Anevay and winking. “I’ll see you around, cutie.”

Anevay’s blush returned and she started giggling, brushing her hair behind her ear.

Enzaria waved emphatically as the Rangers continued their patrol down the road. As soon as she was certain they were out of earshot, her forced smile fell. “Oh,  _ Belore _ ! I hate those fucking savages. Thinking they’re better than everyone because they get paid to go galavant in the trees and do… whatever it is that they do!” 

Anevay didn’t respond as she leaned against the door, a goofy smile on her face. A Ranger had actually flirted with her! She’d never had a girl flirt with her before! It sent a surge of joy through her body that she sorely needed. “She was so cool…”

Enzaria turned to give Anevay a befuddled and outraged expression before she snapped her fingers in front of her face and called her daughter’s attention. “None of that talk out of you! Those Rangers are dangerous brutes who can do nothing for you! You’d have to migrate to some backwards village in the middle of the woods like some damned troll!”

“Did you see the muscles on her?” Anevay said dreamily, still only barely paying attention. Kalira had looked like a finely sculpted statue, her arms and shoulders toned from years of archery work. She could only imagine if the rest of her was just as well shaped.

“I did,” Enzaria said, her face wrinkled in disgust. “How repugnant. A woman has no place being that muscular.”

Anevay was too absorbed in her own thoughts to recognize what her mother was saying. Her heart was fluttering and she felt like she was walking on air. She quietly wondered what it’d feel like to kiss Kalira.

“...What is the matter with you?!” Enzaria demanded.

“Pretty girl touched my face,” Anevay sighed.

Enzaria’s eyes widened with realization before she harshly tugged on Anevay’s ear. “Oh, you stop it with that talk this instant, young lady! I did not spend years planning this marriage only for you to run off into the woods after some hideous women! You are marrying Lyrin! No other way about it!”

“Ah!” Anevay winced, the pain snapping her back to her senses. “Minn’da, I didn’t do anything! Stop it!”

“You were having depraved thoughts you little brat!” Enzaria countered. “And you better stop flaunting them about like that in public!” 

“Depraved thoughts?! You’re the one marrying me off like cheap cattle!” Anevay exclaimed, pulling her ear out of her mother’s grip. “It’s not my fault I’d rather marry a pretty woman…”

“Well you’re not! You’re going to marry Lyrin so you better stop having those thoughts!” Enzaria snapped. “And if you think I’m bad about this, just wait until he catches you thinking like that!”

Anevay recoiled away from her mother, the thought of anything that wretched man might do to her always haunting her nightmares. Any boldness she might have gained from Kalira had thoroughly evaporated under years of trained reflexes. “...Don’t,” she whispered.

“Then do as I say and stop those wicked thoughts of yours,” Enzaria huffed. Taking a single, steadying breath, she adjusted her dress and looked at Anevay with a stern gaze. “Now. We are going back home. Tomorrow, I will be talking with the Meadowbriars and try to salvage this situation. Meanwhile, you are going to stay in your room and not say or do a damned thing until I return to collect you. Are we clear?”

“...Yes, mother,” Anevay said quietly.

* * *

It was midday. The sun was high in the sky. Anevay watched from the balcony as her mother stormed out of the house to meet with the Meadowbriars to salvage her plans. Anevay was well and truly trapped, with the streets of Silvermoon stretching out as if to taunt her. She’d been locked into her bedroom on the third floor of the manor. No breakfast, no lunch, and not a word spoken to her before her mother left.  Her father, as always, was lounging in the sitting room. Reading.

As she watched her mother vanish down the street, Anevay started to hyperventilate. She needed to get out. She needed to get away! She couldn’t go through with this! Her life was about to be cut short, and she was just sitting here!  She looked out over the balcony at the ground below. It was so high, but it was her only option.

She retreated back into her room and changed into a pair of doeskin breeches and a linen tunic. Looking around, she couldn’t find any shoes. She decided barefoot would have to do. She returned to the balcony and took a deep breath as she climbed onto the railing and slid down, hanging from the ledge. She tried to make the fall as short as possible, but there was only so much she could do.

She let go.

She fell down into the grass and rolled onto her back with a sickening thud. She coughed as she felt the wind knocked out of her, and her entire chest ached. But… nothing was broken! Small victories! Catching her breath, she stood up and looked around, wondering where she should go. She took off in the direction of Murder Row, where all the seedy bars were located. Her mother would take longer to find her there at any rate.  As she entered the grimey alleyway, she ducked into a tavern and hid her face as she slinked inside.

Anevay looked around the tavern, her eyes having to adjust to the low lighting of the place. Inside, she began to make out a vast array of shifty looking characters all huddled around different tables that had exotic dancers standing on top of them. She knew her mother would balk in disgust at such a display. Personally, while she wasn’t a particular fan of how these men seemed to drool over them, she would be lying if she said she didn't’ see the appeal.

She sat down at a booth near the bar as she tried to draw as little attention to herself as possible. She knew her stay in this tavern was only temporary at best, but this stop was necessary. She just needed some time to think. 

“Alight, kid, what’re you ordering?” 

Anevay nearly jumped out of her skin as she looked up to see a rather grizzled looking elf standing in front of her. From the apron he was wearing, she could only gathered that he worked here. 

“Well? What are you ordering?” 

Anevay opened her mouth to respond when she suddenly realized something. Her hands felt around in her breeches for some sort of pocket or pouch only to find nothing. 

“Oh… I-I am sorry, sir,” she said bashfully. “I don’t have any money.” 

“Then get out,” the tavern owner huffed. 

“Please sir,” she begged. “I just need some time to think an-”

“This isn’t a place for loiterers, kid,” he said, already losing his patience. “You want charity? Go to Windrunner Village.”

“Uh… where… where is that?” Anevay asked.

“South,” he said briskly.

“I’ve… I’ve never been out of the city,” Anevay said sheepishly.

“Well that’s not my problem, is it?”

Anevay frowned her ears drooping down against her skull. “Okay. I’m going.” She slid out of the booth and made her way back to the door of the tavern. The thought to give the man a parting thanks crossed her mind, but he was already on the other end of the room. She dipped out as unceremoniously as she entered.  Thankfully, Murder’s Row was not that much brighter than the tavern. If she stepped back out into the broad daylight after just having been in there, her eyes likely would have fried. Luckily, she now had a certain destination. Windrunner Village. 

All that remained was figuring out how to get there. The guards could likely direct her to its location, perhaps mark it on a map for her even. Alas, without any money, she couldn’t exactly hire a dragonhawk ride there. She looked around and saw a Ranger clad in armor, speaking to a Magister. Taking a deep breath, she walked up and cleared her throat.

“Excuse me? I don’t suppose you know how to get to Windrunner Village on foot?” she asked.

“I might know something about that,” the Ranger said before tilting her hood up just enough so that Anevay could see her face. “...cutie.”

Anevay’s breath hitched and her face flushed a deep red. It was Kalira, the Ranger from yesterday! 

“I… I… could you t-tell me, Ms… Sundreamer, was it?” she asked nervously.

“Kalira is fine,” the ranger said with a gentle huff of laughter. She withdrew her hood completely to allow a mane of long dark brown hair to spill down her back and shoulders. “So you said you need to get to Windrunner Village?”

“Y-yes,” Anevay nodded. “I’m… I’m in kind of a hurry. I need to get out of the city before my mother finds out I’m gone.” She looked at the Ranger pleadingly, her desperation giving her enough nerve to actually speak in front of this beautiful woman.

The jovial, more than slightly flirtatious attitude she had going swiftly gave way to growing worry with how Anevay was looking at her. She looked the smaller woman over for any show of injury, swiftly realizing that she wasn’t even wearing shoes.  “...Are you sure you’re alright?” she asked, her brow furrowed with concern. “What’s going on?”

“Y-you know how my mother said I was engaged?” Anevay asked. When Kalira nodded, she continued. “I’m being forced into it.”

Kalira’s lips parted slightly to let out a sharp gasp. Immediately she understood the severity of Anevay’s situation. She looked over the young woman once more, the beginnings of a plan forming behind her mana blue eyes.  “...I can direct you to the village,” she confirmed, extending a hand to Anevay. “But we need to get you some things first. Follow me.” 

Anevay took Kalira’s hand, feeling a sweeping sensation in the pit of her stomach as Kalira tugged her down the alleyway. “W-What do I need?” she asked.

“Boots for starters,” Kalira explained, her eyes scanning their immediate area as the walked. “As well as a cloak. We can get you both in Farstrider Square.” 

“O-Oh… but I don’t have any money,” Anevay winced. “I had to jump off a balcony to get out of the house.”

“My treat,” Kalira assured her, flashing an easy smile to the woman she was dragging along. “Luckily, you’ll be able to get to Windrunner Spire on foot. It is gonna be a hell of a walk though.” 

“I’ll do anything to get away from this marriage,” Anevay said desperately, grasping Kalira’s hand tighter as she followed. “I’ll walk all the way to Lordaeron if I have to!”

“That’s the spirit,” Kalira smirked. 

It wasn’t that long of a walk to Farstrider Square. Before Anevay realized it, she saw swords and bows all around her. Swordsmen were seen cleaving training dummies entwine. Archer’s were shooting bullseye after bullseye into targets. She marveled as these hardened warriors continued to sharpen their skills, though her eyes did tend to drift more towards the women.  Kalira pulled her into large room that was covered wall to wall in armaments. One of the elves that was relaxing on a chaise lounge looked up to shoot the Ranger a look of amusement. 

“Hooking up with another civie, Kalira?” the woman tutted. “Aren’t you supposed to be out on patrol?”

“We need to get this girl to Windrunner Village,” Kalira said in a no nonsense voice. 

“Why?” 

“Arranged marriage.” 

Anevay watched as the other woman’s face went from jovial amusement to absolute business. She put down the book she was reading and stood up. “What does she need?”

“Boots and a cloak,” Kalira responded, giving the other woman a nod of appreciation as she dashed into the other room.

Anevay watched as the Ranger disappeared and then looked to Kalira. “Thank you so much. I don’t know how I could ever repay you for this,” she said, her eyes starting to brim with tears.

“Don’t thank me just yet,” Kalira said, her eyes roaming over a nearby table. “I can get you as far as to a place where someone might be able to help you, whether or not they can remains to be seen. Aha!” 

She pulled a piece of parchment out from under a stack and ushered Anevay over to it. The younger woman silently obeyed and approached seeing that they were both looking over a map. “Alright, so you’ll want to follow this road,” she traced down a marked pathway with a quill across the length of the map, “all the way to Windrunner Village. It will lead you to Fairbreeze Village on the way where you can rest if you have to. Once you make it to the Windrunner, however, you’re gonna want to find a house on the northernmost point of town. The lights will still be on when you get there and the woman inside will let you in. Just tell her what’s going on and she’ll do whatever she can to help.” 

“How do I know I have the right house?” Anevay asked, looking up in confusion.

“Trust me, you’ll know,” Kalira nodded.

Anevay felt more nervous than she had when she first ran away, but nodded. “O-Okay,” she said, feeling unsure about knocking on a strange woman’s door and asking for help.

The other Ranger came out with a pair of leather boots and a cloak with a hood. She handed them to Anevay with a compassionate look on her face. “Here, hon. Keep your hood up if you don’t want anyone to recognize you.”

Anevay took them and wiped a few tears on her arm. “Thanks…”

“Hey,” Kalira said, gently cupping Anevay’s cheek with a forefinger and thumb to tilt her gaze upward. “Don’t worry about it. Our duty as rangers is to protect the people of Quel’thalas. From anything.” 

Anevay’s cheeks flushed red and she nearly melted under the woman’s touch. Her bow-calloused fingers sent tingles down the young girl’s spine. “Thank you so much!” she exclaimed, lunging forward and hugging Kalira tightly.

Kalira’s eyes widened as she was pulled into an embrace she was not expecting. Rather than remain in shock, however, she smiled and graciously returned the hug. “It’s my pleasure,” she whispered gently. 

Anevay kept close to her as they made their way to the Silvermoon gates. They stopped just outside as Kalira grabbed her cautiously by the shoulders to get her attention. 

“This is as far as I can take you, sadly,” she lamented. “I have to return to my patrol of the city. Just stay on the path I marked on your map and you’ll be safe, alright?”

Anevay nodded. “Okay. I can do this!”

“Good,” she smiled, patting her on the back and sending her off.

Anevay took off in a run down the path, feeling the first inklings of exhilaration. She was out of the city! She was getting away! It’d be so much harder for her mother to find her now!

Back at the gates, Anya glanced at Kalira and smirked. “Should we have told her we were sending her to Sylvanas’ doorstep?”

“I figured that I’d leave it as a surprise,” Kalira said, resisting the urge to laugh. “I wish I could see the look on that girl’s face when she realizes.” 

* * *

Anevay’s feet ached as she made it to Windrunner Village that night. She’d been walking, running and jogging all day, not even stopping in Fairbreeze when she made it that far. The fear and exhilaration had kept her going despite never having gone this far on foot before. But after ten hours, that energy had been more than exhausted and she was looking forward to being able to sit down.  As she entered the village square, she saw that all the houses had their lights out except for one. A small dwelling in the shadow of Windrunner Spire. She limped over to it and took a deep breath, hoping that whoever was in here could help her.

She lifted her hand and knocked three times.

From the other side of the door, she could here rustling and a greatly annoyed voice. She didn’t have long to try and gather who it was before the door swung open. 

“Cyndia, I swear! If you brought me another stray, I-” 

The woman paused as she looked down at Anevay. Anevay looked up at her in kind, but with eyes wide with shock and her jaw slack with disbelief. 

The woman was wearing typical ranger leathers, the lack of a cloak or sleeves putting her toned arms on full display. Her hair was platinum blonde and flowed down past her shoulders silky elegant locks. Her eyes shined gently in the nighttime dark, carrying a more steel grey tint than the usual mana blue. But that face. That face was unmistakable. It was the same face Anevay had seen from afar only a handful of times since her childhood. 

She was standing before Ranger-General Sylvanas Windrunner. 

“...Hello?” Sylvanas greeted, a brow arched in confusion.

Anevay opened her mouth and nothing but choked squeaking came out. She cleared her throat, but her entire body was trembling. “K-K-Kalira said you c-could help me…” she finally managed to say, her voice barely a whisper.

Sylvanas blinked. “Kalira sent you?” Sylvanas asked, the slight etching in her expression shifting from absolute confusion to growing concern. “What’s the matter, young one?”

“I… I ran away from my home,” Anevay managed to say, gripping her own hand and squeezing it so hard she almost heard her fingers crack. “I’m… I’m t-trying to escape an arranged marriage.”

Sylvanas’ eyes widened at that. Her ears shifted as far up as they would go as the taller elf suddenly appeared completely alert. Anevay could see the wheels spinning behind those focused grey eyes before they darted to and fro, likely looking for anyone else nearby. When they found no one, Sylvanas stepped beside the doorway and silently ushered the other woman in.

Anevay obeyed and stepped inside, and the door swiftly shut behind them. Looking around, she noticed that the house looked a lot bigger from the outside. It was just about the same size as a Silvermoon apartment. That made sense, she thought, as Sylvanas likely lived in Windrunner Spire and so this was just a convenient place to be found.  Sylvanas gestured for her to sit down, and she obeyed, pulling back her hood and finally relaxing for the first time all day.

Sylvanas sat across from her on a chair across from the sofa, her body fully illuminated by the lit fire in the hearth. Where Anevay could make out just enough of Sylvanas’ appearance in the darkness outside, here she could see every minute detail. Her perfectly toned arms were crisscrossed with wayward scars from her countless battles. Her complexion was an immaculately sunkissed and resplendent. This woman was beautiful in every sense of the word. 

“Alright,” Sylvanas began. “Tell me everything. From the top.”

Anevay took a few deep breaths to calm herself before she started to explain.

“Okay, ever since I was born my parents were planning to marry me off to House Meadowbriar. It’s been the only thing they’ve cared about regarding me for my entire life,” Anevay explained. “They even coerced me into signing an agreement after forced marriages were outlawed.”

“But you don’t want to get married,” Sylvanas concluded.

“No, I don’t,” Anevay shook her head. “Lyrin Meadowbriar is a pig of a man who can’t wait to own me as property. He’s been disgusting to me since I was little, and I hate him with every fibre of my being. And I don’t even like men anyway.”

Sylvanas let out a small huff of laughter as she leaned forward in her seat. “So you have left home and Kalira, somehow knowing this, sent you my way?”

“I ran into her in Murder Row,” Anevay explained, nodding along with Sylvanas. “I told her what happened and she sent me here.”

“I see,” Sylvanas said, her expression growing pensive. “She didn’t make any… outlandish promises on my behalf, did she?”

“Um… no?” Anevay said, looking up and meeting Sylvanas’ eyes. She tensed up slightly once she did. Belore, this woman was beautiful. “She just said you might be able to help me.”

Sylvanas exhaled through her nostrils as the beginnings of an idea began to turn over in her head. Without preamble, she rose back to her feet. “I’m going to go put a kettle on,” Sylvanas said. “You look like you could use some tea.”

“I… yes, please,” Anevay said. She glanced down at her hands to see that they were trembling. She clenched them into fists in the hopes of getting them to stop.

It was a little while before Sylvanas returned to the living room. So much time in fact that, were it not for Anevay’s nerves, she might have just fallen asleep from sheer exhaustion. As it was, she remained awake to see the Ranger General return. She had a cup of tea in each hand and extended one of them to her.  She took it graciously and sipped it. The heat was comforting, and almost immediately the familiarity of drinking tea put her nerves at ease. Now she had  _ something  _ to do with her hands at the very least.

“How old are you?” Sylvanas asked.

“T-Twenty,” Anevay said, taking another sip.

_ “Twenty?”  _ Sylvanas balked, her expression aghast. “...Do I even want to know how old this  _ Meadowbriar _ is?”

“He’s… a hundred and seventy-two,” Anevay said sheepishly.

The teacup in Sylvanas’ grasp threatened to crack under her grip. The prospect of an arranged marriage was horrible enough. It was something she fought against the crown over for literal decades. To find that one was occurring thanks to the multitude of loopholes new legislation had left, but to know it was occurring between a man who was already a full century older than his betrothed, whom he knew when she was an infant... Her blood ran hotter than the fire that burned beside the both of them.

Sylvanas took a single, centering breath to calm herself. “...Alright,” she began as she set her cup on the table between them. “I think I have a way I can help you escape this… but I cannot guarantee you’re going to like it.” 

“Please, Lady Windrunner!” Anevay pleaded. “I’ll do anything to get away from my mother and her horrible plans!”

“Well… there is a way to rescind the obligations that you were coerced into when you were young… well young _ er _ ,” Sylvanas said cautiously. “It involved taking a more important oath… The oath of a Farstrider.” She carefully watched Anevay’s reaction to that information, noting she looked more generally surprised than shocked or horrified. “Assuming the duties of a Ranger will relieve you of any and all previous obligations, so long as you uphold the vows,” she continued to explain. “I won’t lie to you, miss. It’s not gonna be an easy out. Even if you pass the physical gauntlet of basic training, which, no offense, might be a big if for you, the life of a Ranger is far from easy. Your body and mind will be constantly put to the test as we work to defend Quel’Thalas from any invaders. Your life and the lives of your fellow Rangers will perhaps be put in regular peril. You may find that the life of a Ranger is not to your liking… but it will get you away from that marriage.”

Anevay was quiet as she set her teacup down. A Ranger? Her? Bows were so heavy to draw, and she could barely lift a crate! Her hands reflexively squeezed her arms, only not realizing how soft and frail they were. She couldn’t do this. She couldn’t be a Ranger! She wasn’t cut out for it! This was just a big joke!

Then she thought about what awaited her back in Silvermoon. A lifetime of servitude and misery just so her parents could be a little bit richer.  It was her only out. She had to try.

“I’ll do it,” she said quietly. “Whatever it takes, I’ll do it.”

Sylvanas eyed her carefully, her gaze testing the younger elf’s fortitude. In truth, the poor girl looked as though a strong wind could knock her over. She certainly had a pretty face, that much was undeniable, but her physique was going to need a great deal of work. 

But despite her rather frail disposition, she met Anevay’s eyes and found nothing but determination and sheer force of will. 

Perhaps this could work. 

“Very well,” Sylvanas nodded. “I will be sure to walk you through the paperwork tomorrow morning. From there, we’ll find you a station to begin your basic training.” 

All of a sudden, the weight of her situation finally crashed down around her. She had an out. If she pushed herself as hard as possible, she wouldn’t be subjected to that horrible fate she’d been dreading her entire life. The realization that freedom was within her grasp was overwhelming and she started to cry.

“Thank you! Thank you so much, Lady Windrunner!” she exclaimed, setting her cup down with shaking hands. “You won’t regret this, I promise! I’m never going back there!”

“Okay, okay. Easy, miss! I believe you,” Sylvanas said assuringly, a slight smile growing on her face. “But I appreciate your enthusiasm.” 


	2. Time to Initiate the Newbie

**One Month Later**

Anevay doubled over, panting in exhaustion. The twenty-mile run was still the most strenuous challenge she had yet to overcome. She just couldn’t absorb the fact that she had to pace herself. That the goal was to finish without stopping, not beat some kind of record. Still she was urged to go as fast as possible, which always ended up with her walking halfway through. Her chest was throbbing from the constant starting and stopping, and she was gulping down air like she was suffocating.  Over the last month, she’s seen immense improvement. Her strength had developed to the point she could actually draw her bow, and her body was toned as a result. The run from Windrunner Village to Silvermoon wasn’t anywhere near as strenuous as it had been the night she fled, and it turned out she was a pretty good shot.

Sylvanas had taken an interest in her progress and had opted to oversee her training personally. While initially intending to wash her hands of the girl after getting her into basic training, she’d found herself genuinely concerned for her well-being. She had become Sylvanas’ personal student after that, and the direct attention of the Ranger-General had done wonders for both her progress and her confidence.  Though it was clear that her patience still needed some work. 

“You burned yourself out again, Darkflare,” Sylvanas chastised, standing over the young elf that fought to catch her breath. “You know we’ve been over this.”

“I know, General,” Anevay rasped out, trying to return to her feet despite the incredible burning in her legs. 

“You cannot just rush through an obstacle and expect to overcome it with sheer gumption,” Sylvanas continued, pacing over Anevay. “Trying to rush in a footrace is one thing. Trying to rush an entire Amani encampment by yourself is something else entirely. If you do not learn patience and discipline, your time as a Ranger is not going to be very long.”

“Yes, General,” Anevay panted, her body tensing up at the notion of failing basic training. “I’m sorry, it’s a… hard impulse to… break…”

Sylvanas tsked. Such was the impatience of youth. Anevay had not even seen her first century and that lack of experience lead to a vast assortment of impulsive decisions that did not offer immediate results much to her frustration. Such impulsive behavior was why it was encouraged that elves not try to sign up for the Fastriders fresh into their newfound adulthood without having already learned that necessary patience.  Alas, the alternative for Anevay was something Sylvanas wouldn’t wish on her worst enemy. As such, they had to make due.

“Let me know when you’re okay to move,” she said, her tone even but clearly disappointed. “We’ll try it again tomorrow.” 

Anevay nodded as she caught her breath, standing up straight. Her entire body ached and her pride was wounded from disappointing Sylvanas. “Alright, General,” she nodded, punching her own chest from the pain. “I’m good.”

“Alright,” Sylvanas said, turning back down the path they came from and beckoning for Anevay to follow. Despite her undeniable fatigue, the young elf did her best to keep pace with Sylvanas. “Your first exam is in two weeks. You need to be able to complete that run without stopping.”

“I understand, General,” Anevay nodded.

“You know what’s at stake if you fail, right?”

“I do, General,” Anevay nodded again.

“Darkflare, you have seen tremendous progress in only a month, but your lack of patience will be your undoing,” she continued.

“I am trying, General,” Anevay said sheepishly as they continued down the path.

“I know you are,” Sylvanas said, “but in two weeks, I’m going to need you to actually succeed.”

“I will,” Anevay nodded, gritting her teeth. “Pace yourself. Pace yourself. Pace yourself,” she muttered as her fists clenched at her sides. Why was it so hard to NOT break into a full sprint every single time?

Unbeknownst to her, Sylvanas was asking that very same question to herself. She knew that the problem was a general lack of patience, but was there a trick to beat that? Was there a way to convince this girl not to run as fast as she could as if something was chasing h-

She blinked. Suddenly, the skeleton of an idea began to take form in her mind.  “...When you run…” she began, tilting her attention back to the girl trailing behind her. “Do you ever imagine that something is chasing you?”

Anevay lifted her head to look at Sylvanas, her brow furrowed. “Uh… yeah. My mother,” she said, looking ashamed of herself. “The first time in my life I ever ran was when I was running between Silvermoon and Windrunner Village. Running away from her…”

“That might be your problem,” Sylvanas said, stopping to turn and look at Anevay. “If you always envision your mother is behind you, you’ll naturally try and get as far away from her as quickly as possible.” Sylvanas placed an hand on Anevay’s shoulder, silently asking for the girl’s full attention. “Next time you run, try not to imagine that you’re running from something. Imagine what you’re running  _ towards. _ Something that’s going to be there at the end no matter how fast or slow you run. Something to look forward to rather than dread.” 

Anevay tensed up when Sylvanas touched her shoulder, glancing at the Ranger-General’s hand before looking back up at her. “I… I think I can think of a few things, General,” she nodded. “I think I can do that.”

A smile graced Sylvanas’ lips. “Good. Now come on. You reek like a dragonhawk pen.”

Anevay winced and followed along, clutching her arms tightly to her sides in embarrassment. “S-Sorry…”

* * *

Anevay left the baths feeling refreshed and a lot less grungy than she had beforehand. Training always took a lot out of her, and a good scrub down always made her more relaxed. Of course she’d be even more relaxed if there weren’t four or five naked women surrounding her whenever she was trying to wash herself, but she wasn’t about to complain.  As she tied her tunic back up, a sleeveless tunic as the summer air was still very humid, she heard a sound she had prayed to Belore she would never hear again.

“ANEVAY DARKFLARE!” shrieked her mother from the other end of the village.

“Oh no…” she groaned. She looked around, looking for some place she can hide behind or dive under to try and shake the incoming headache that was storming her way. ' _...No,’ _ she thought to herself after a moment.  _ ‘I’m not running from anything anymore. I’m running  _ **_towards_ ** _ something.’  _

She closed her eyes, counted backwards from ten, fought to keep her breathing steady before she turned back to face her positively livid mother. “Oh, hello, Minn’da!” she greeted as cheerfully as she could manage. “What brings you so far out of the city?”

“Do you have any idea how long I’ve been searching for you?!” her mother practically screamed. “You up and vanish from your room in the dead of night two days before your wedding, and I find you a month later in this… DIRT PIT?!”

“It’s called a training ground, mother,” Anevay pursed her lips and folded her arms.

“Training ground!?” Enzaria balked. “For what!?” 

“For Farstriders,” Anevay said, unable to keep the smirk out of her voice. Especially after seeing the look of shock and horror on her mother’s face. “Yeah, see I was hoping to surprise you with this,” she continued airily. “I gave it a lot of thought and I decided that the housewife life just really wasn’t for me. You know? So I decided to join the Farstriders.” 

“Anevay,” Enzaria said, her face beet red with fury and her lips turned upward in a full scowl. “You are going to stop whatever little farce you're playing right now and come home. This.  _ Instant. _ ”

“No, mother. I’m not coming home,” Anevay pursed her lips, her arms tensing up. “I’m staying right here, completing my training, and joining the Ranger Corps. Besides, it’s not like I’d fit in that dress you wanted me to wear now,” she added, flexing her arms.

Enzaria gasped when she saw the newly found mass and definition to Anevay’s arms. The look on her face was one of abject disgust, as was expected. “Anevay, what have you done to yourself!?” she cried out, shrieking as if she just watched her daughter drive a knife into her own gut. “Lyrin won’t desire you looking like  _ this!!! _ ”

“Good!” Anevay exclaimed. “I don’t want that creep to desire me! I’d put an arrow in his neck before I  _ ever  _ let him get within ten feet of me!”

Enzaria’s nostrils flared with indignance, the red in her face becoming even more pronounced. “Anevay Darkflare, you stop this nonsense right now! You are not one of these… these tree fucking savages and you never will be! You were destined for Silvermoon nobility the day you were born and you will not turn your back on it now! Not after everything I did for you!” 

There was a rustling as three rangers came out of the baths with loose tunics draped over themselves, raising their eyebrows in surprise at the commotion going on outside.  “Anevay?” Velonara asked, laying a hand on her shoulder. “What’s going on?”

“My mother found me,” Anevay said stiffly.

Velonara, Lyana and Loralen all looked shocked as they turned their gaze to Enzaria. “This is the one who wanted to whore you out to nobility?” Lyana asked.

Anevay nodded.

“Excuse me!?” Enzaria balked at the three women suddenly glaring at her judgingly. “I don’t care for your crass language! This is a matter between me and my daughter, so I would appreciate it if-”

“‘My daughter and  _ I, _ ’ you mean,” Loralen corrected, crossing her arms in front of her and watching the older woman sputter and seethe at her interjection.

“Thank you for that,” Anevay laughed, leaning on Loralen’s shoulder and feeling better now that she had backup. “That is priceless.”

“Anytime, cutie,” Loralen chuckled, reaching up and patting Anevay’s cheek.

Enzaria swatted Loralen’s hand away from Anevay. “Don’t touch my daughter like that, you depraved cow!” 

The Ranger’s all gawked wide eyed at the audacity of this woman. 

“Oh! Okay!” Lyana said, stepping forward. “Well… it’s been an honor, girls but this  _ cow, _ ” she took another step towards Enzaria, cracking her knuckles, “Is going to have to break her oath!” 

Velonara and Loralen lept to hook their arms underneath Lyana’s and hold her back.

“Lyana! C’mon, you don’t need to beat up my mother,” Anevay said, coming around to Lyana’s front and helping the other two restrain her. “She’s just trying to get you in trouble! Don’t take the bait!”

Lyana strugged, but eventually relented. She scowled at Enzaria for a moment, before a wicked smirk spread across her cheeks. “...Alright. Let go of me girls. I have a better idea to tweak the palace rat.”

“ _ Lyana _ ,” Velonara exasperated. 

“Vel? Trust me,” Lyana said silkily. 

Velonara and Loralen exchanged confused, concerned looks before slowly relenting, allowing their sister ranger to pull her arms out of their grip.  Enzaria took a single step back, literally clutching at her pearls. “Don’t come near me, you savage!” she demanded with a cracking voice. “You’ll regret it!” 

“Near you? Wouldn’t dream of it,” Lyana smirked, before wrapping an arm around Anevay’s neck and pulling her into a heated kiss, much to the other woman’s absolute surprise.

Enzaria gasped, her face utterly distraught. “Y-You stop that! Stop that right now!” she commanded. 

But Lyana didn’t listen to her. Anevay  _ couldn’t _ listen to her even if she wanted to. She was too enthralled by those warm, soft lips so perfectly gliding over her own. Her eyes soon fluttered closed as she melted into the kiss, her arms snaking around Lyana’s waist out of sheer instinct. 

“Wha- No! Anevay Darkflare, you knock that off! Don’t reciprocate! That’s disgusting!” Enzaria barked, stomping her foot.

Lyana reached a hand down and squeezed Anevay’s backside, giggling against the girl’s lips. Anevay squeaked and squeezed her waist tighter, pulling herself closer to the-

“Alright! Alright! Break it up!” came a powerful, commanding voice.

Lyana and Anevay broke apart, Anevay completely red in the face as they turned in the direction of Sylvanas.

“You know the rules. No fraternizing until after dusk,” Sylvanas scoffed, albeit with a smile on her face.

“Yes, Ranger General,” Lyana said, saluting to Sylvanas despite the smile she could not conceal. “Apologies.” 

Sylvanas nodded, an indication that there would be no punishment. It was then that her attention turned to the noblewoman who appeared dangerously close to blowing a gasket. “Can I help you miss…?”

“Enzaria Darkflare,” the other elf seethed. “I am here to collect my daughter Anevay. She ran away from home a month ago to come play Ranger and I’ve come to bring her back.”

“Oh you mean recruit Darkflare?” Sylvanas asked innocently, her attention turning to Anevay. “Yes, well I’m afraid that is impossible.”

“...What!?”

“You see, recruits are strictly forbidden from leaving the premises until they are finished with basic training. Of course, after they make their oath of service, they are usually deployed one way or the other.”

“B-But this is ridiculous! My daughter isn’t a Ranger!” Enzaria exclaimed. “She has no business being here! She must come home immediately!”

“Your daughter is a grown woman and can make her own decisions, Lady Darkflare,” Sylvanas said, folding her arms. “Unless you think to tell me how to manage my girls?”

“Your  _ girls!? _ You mean this uncouth band of trolls who were just fondling my daughter!?” 

“I assure you that kind of behavior is not tolerated, Lady Darkflare,” Sylvanas said in an uncharacteristically gentle tone. The statement hung in the air for a beat before she added. “My trolls are civilized enough to wait until dark to fondle your daughter.” 

The three ranger recruits snickered while Anevay hid her now blood-red face behind her hands. “General!” she whimpered.

“Oh hush, Darkflare, it’s bound to happen sometime,” Sylvanas waved her off dismissively. “You can’t pack two dozen young women together and expect them to behave themselves.”

Enzaria’s nostrils flared as she inhaled and exhaled sharply, her eyes burning with absolute contempt for the Ranger General. “Now see here you-!”

“Lady Darkflare, I would positively  _ adore  _ the chance to hash all of this out with you,” Sylvanas interjected condescendingly. “Perhaps over some tea and pastries. Alas, I have an army to lead, these girls have training in the morning and  _ you  _ have an enclosed training ground to vacate immediately. If you need any help leaving the premises, Ranger Lord Theron can direct you. Ta!” 

Enzaria couldn’t even get another word in before Sylvanas turned on her heel and walked the other way, ushering the four girls to follow her with a wave of her hand.

Anevay didn’t even look back at her mother as she followed the others deeper into the training grounds. She wasn’t sure  _ where  _ Sylvanas was taking them, but further away from her mother could only be a good thing.  “Thanks girls,” Anevay smiled at the three Rangers. “And you too, General.”

“You can thank me by not overexerting yourselves tonight,” Sylvanas huffed. “You still have those twenty miles to prepare for.” 

“But general! What could we four possibly overexert ourselves over?” Velonara asked ‘innocently’.

Anevay’s eyes darted between the three of them and she said nothing, her cheeks flushing again. At this rate she was going to get a fever.

“Don’t play coy with me, recruit,” Sylvanas said with a huff as she stopped at the divide between Windrunner village and the barracks. “I expect you all to be awake and ready by dawn. Understood?”

“Yes, General,” Lyana nodded.

“Good,” Sylvanas said, turning on her heel and striding off to the village.

Anevay relaxed slightly, taking a glance at the direction of her room, before three pairs of arms grabbed her by the shoulders and hauled her off in a different direction. “Hey! Hey, what’s going on?!”

“Something you’re absolutely gonna like,” Velonara responded, whispering softly into Anevay’s ear. 

“Unless you’d rather not, tonight,” Lyana purred, her free hand trailing along Anevay’s side. “We’ll understand.” 

Anevay squeaked and blushed harder, relenting to the Rangers pulling. Loralen snickered as she opened the door to their shared room. “Time to initiate the newbie!” she grinned wickedly.

And that was how Anevay lost her virginity in a casual foursome.

* * *

She wasn’t running from her mother. Or from Lyrin.  She wasn’t running  _ from _ anything.  She was running  _ towards  _ something.  And she reached it. 

Anevay came to a stop at the end of the track and doubled over, breathing heavily. Her entire body ached, but she was too exhilarated to care. She’d done it! She’d finished the distance run without stopping! She was so happy and pleased with herself that the burning in her lungs barely registered with her.

“Well look at you,” came a voice that still sounded like silk even after that twenty mile run. “Looks like you can learn some patience after all, recruit.” 

Anevay looked up to see Sylvanas regarding her with an approving smile. She heaved as she stood up straight and saluted her, a wide grin on her face. “With all the patience you’ve shown me, I was bound to learn it eventually,” she said, her voice a slight wheeze.

“Don’t be silly, Darkflare,” Sylvanas tutted. “You’ve made far more progress far more quickly than even I could have anticipated. It wasn’t even a month ago you were that shy young woman quaking in her boots at my doorstep. And look at you now.” 

“A shy young woman quaking in her boots in a field?” Anevay asked with a shrug before her face cracked and she started laughing.

Sylvanas offered an amused chuckle in kind. “Yes, perhaps, but that quaking is well deserved,” she amended. “That run was an excellent test of fortitude and discipline, recruit. Plus your aim is nothing to sneeze at either. It is my firm belief you shall pass your exam with flying colors.”

Anevay smiled brightly, resisting the urge to squeal in delight. “You really think so, General?”

Sylvanas smirked. “Have I ever been wrong?”

“Don’t ask her that question. We’ll be here all day.” 

Sylvanas turned to the source of that dry retort to see Ranger Lord Lor’themar Theron walking their way. “Ah, Theron,” she acknowledged with a frown. “Is there any reason that you’ve chosen to interrupt this heartwarming little pep talk?” 

“A report from the Border Patrol, Ranger General,” Lor’themar said before handing Sylvanas a scroll. “Looks like some Gnolls are sticking their snouts in our outlying villages for supplies.” 

Sylvanas scoffed, “Of course.” The Gnolls were always making encroachments onto the border villages. They were usually only just a nuisance, but if not dealt with then they would probably kill a child. “Send six rangers to each village, clean up the damned mess.”

“At once, General,” Lor’themar nodded, his gaze flickering onto Anevay for a moment. “When can we expect you back in the field again?”

“When I’ve seen this recruit through her oath ceremony,  _ as we’ve already discussed, _ ” Sylvanas responded, an annoyed lilt in her voice. 

“General, I just don’t think that-” 

“You were not given permission to speak freely, Theron,” Sylvanas huffed. “Now carry out my orders.” 

Lor’themar paused for a moment before inevitably nodding in concession and turning the other way.  Anevay had recoiled slightly at such a display of authority. Sylvanas irritated wasn’t something she saw often, but it frightened her nonetheless. “A-Are you alright, General?”

Sylvanas’ attention turned back to Anevay, her hard expression melting somewhat. “...You’ll have to excuse the Ranger Lord, recruit,” she sighed. “He seems to believe that me personally overseeing your training is a waste of my time. Rest assured I’ve made my feelings clear on the matter.” 

“I-I don’t want to cause a problem, Gen-”

“The Ranger Lords answer to me, recruit,” Sylvanas said firmly. “Not the other way around.”

“Yes General,” Anevay nodded. “I’m sorry.”

“Think nothing of it,” Sylvanas insisted. “If it wasn’t you, Theron would likely be giving me a headache over some other matter.” She accentuated that point by giving Anevay’s shoulder a hearty clap. “Now, let’s get you a fresh waterskin. I know after that run, you certainly need it.” 

Anevay nodded in concession and allowed Sylvanas to guide her toward the mess tent. As they walked, the elation returned in full force. She’d finally overcome the biggest hurdle in her training and was likely to pass her first exam. And not just pass it, but ace it! Her first month and a half of training had been arduous, painful, and downright inhumane at times. But she was there. And if she kept this up, then it would only be another four and a half months to go until she was officially a Ranger.  And free.

As they entered the mess tent, Anevay took a waterskin and gulped down the contents like she’d just come out of the desert. Now that she was finally drinking something, she could feel how badly her body burned from exertion. She sat down and coughed into her arm, her chest tightening fiercely.

“Easy, Darkflare,” Sylvanas warned as she sat down near a supply crate. “Don’t gulp that water down only to throw it back up.”

“It’s not my stomach,” Anevay coughed again, feeling the pain in her chest sting harder. “My chest hurts.”

“Ah.”

Sylvanas rose from her seat to place a firm hand onto Anevay’s back. “Deep breaths. Try not to move too much. You did just push your body harder than ever before.”

Anevay tried to take deep breaths, but at the apex she felt another sting of pain and started coughing again. “Ah! It’s right at the- _ cough- _ end of a- _ cough _ -breath. What’s going on?”

“Small tears in the muscle from overexertion,” Sylvanas explained. “It will heal in time, and you’ll be stronger for it.”

“Okay,” Anevay coughed, taking another breath, but stopping before the point of pain.

Sylvanas felt a fond smile spread across her lips as she continued to look over Anevay. “That is the burn of improvement you’re feeling. The fires of strength. Like ore being melted and forged into a steel blade, you are reforging yourself stronger and better than ever before.” 

Anevay controlled her breathing so she could actually get air in without seizing up, and nodded. “I think I understand,” she said, sitting up straight and taking another sip of water. This time there was no coughing, but her entire torso felt sore and stiff.

Sylvanas continued to smile with approval before she returned to the other end of the mess tent. Her eyes roamed over the supply crates, making sure their inventory was as it should be. “Have you given any thought to what you shall do after you have taken your oath, Darkflare?” she asked while her eyes continued to sift through the supplies. “You will have a choice on where you can be stationed, after all.”

“Oh, um…” Anevay paused as she considered that. Though it was less than five months away, she hadn’t actually given much thought to what would happen besides freedom. “I hadn’t given it any thought, actually. What are my options?”

“Some Rangers tend to be deployed in Silvermoon and the immediate outlying areas,” Sylvanas began to explain. “It is considered the most important station to be, but in reality it’s just a cushy position to do more than lounge about and have target practice.” Her eyes fell upon a fresh quiver of arrows, a slight frown forming on her lips when she realized some of them weren’t exactly up to snuff. “There is another station along the Greenwood pass. The most you’ll have to worry about are wanderers from the Living Wood. There’s an Enclave just south of the Dawnstar Spire where we stand against incursions from Zul’Aman. And finally, there’s the position of Thalassian Pass where you would watch over the gates to our Kingdom.”

Anevay gave it some thought. Truly, staying in Silvermoon was out. She didn’t push herself this hard just to take the easy job. Especially not to take a job that close to her mother. Greenwood pass felt similarly insulting. She was determined to prove she wasn’t just dead weight. Or a ‘charity case’ as some of the less friendly recruits in her barracks had taken to calling her.  Thalassian Pass sounded exciting, but in her research of Quel’thalas’ history she recalled that the Kingdom hadn’t actually been invaded in a thousand years outside of…

“Dawnstar Spire sounds like the best fit for me,” Anevay smiled confidently.

Sylvanas turned from her rudimentary inspection to flash Anevay a look of mild surprise. “Really? You wish to jump right into the action?” she asked, a small, proud smile teasing the edge of her lips. “Well, I’ll certainly be sure to confirm that request for you.”

“I’m not putting myself through this just to go back to lounging in Silvermoon,” Anevay said with an affirming nod. “I’m not just dead weight.”

The proud smile on Sylvanas’ face only grew wider as she saw the look of sheer determination on Anevay’s face. “You are far from dead weight, Darkflare,” she said reassuringly. “But I will most certainly give you the chance to prove that yourself.” 

* * *

**Two Months Later**

Anevay, now crossing into her fourth month of basic training, was practically on cloud nine. She felt so  _ good _ ! Her daily trials were a breeze at this point, and she’d reached peak conditioning under her current intensity of training. She was more than ready for her second exam, and then things would get more intense. Full-day runs, bows with two-hundred pound draw weights, it was the period where most recruits dropped out. The Farstriders only accepted the best and they were determined to weed out anyone else.  Anevay finished her run just as dusk was drawing, and leaned against the outer fence. Eversong forest was positively beautiful, and she hated that she never got to experience it until now. The way the sun danced through the gaps in the trees, bathing the fields with a golden glow, it was so pretty!

Then her face fell as something ugly tainted the sight. Her mother was coming back down the path. With…  _ him  _ in tow.

“Oh crap,” she sighed.

“ _ Anevay Darkflare _ ,” Enzaria ‘greeted’ as they approached. Her voice was not screeching high enough to break glass this time, but her tone was no less vitriolic. “I think we’ve humored this little game of yours for long enough. It’s time to come home.”

“No,” Anevay said flatly. She pushed up from the fence staring her mother down without a hint of fear. “I’m finishing my training, joining the Farstriders, and being stationed far away from Silvermoon. That hasn’t changed.”

Enzaria’s nostrils flared the way they always did when she was absolutely livid. “Young lady, stop being ridiculous! You aren’t a soldier. You are a noblewoman. This little ‘vacation’ of yours does not change any of that.” 

“I’m whatever I decide to be,  _ mother _ ,” Anevay said firmly. “This is what I want to do with my life, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me. So I don’t know why you keep insisting on coming here to bother me.”

“Well, I had thought that was obvious, Anevay,” Lyrin said, stepping forward to look down at Anevay with the utmost condescending expression. “We came to save you from yourself. From your own reckless, bullheaded lack of foresight. Because, unless I’m wrong, you must complete your training by passing a final exam, yes?”

Narrowing her eyes, Anevay nodded. 

“Right… except you won’t,” Lyrin said. “Because right before it starts, you’re going to realize the gravity of your choices. You’re going to realize you made a mistake and that you aren’t like those…” he gestured to a handful of Rangers that could be seen doing drills off in the training grounds, “... _ characters. _ You’re going to realize you were wrong about everything and you’ll choke on your little exam and be denied entry into this little club. And where will you be after that? Scrounging around in the deepest cesspools of Quel’Thalas, begging for coppers and food? Or will you be with your loving family who keeps offering you a chance to come back to us?”

“Don’t say ‘us’ Lyrin. You aren’t my family. You will  _ never  _ be my family. Enzaria is barely a mother to me as it is. I don’t  _ have  _ a loving family to go back to,” Anevay spat. “And I’d sooner take a knife to my own throat than even consider the hell she would have stuck me in with you!”

“Hell?” Lyrin asked, his lip turned up in disgust. “If you are with me, you would live a life of absolute luxury instead of mucking about with these undesirables. Just because they stroke your overblown ego does not make them good for you. Only I can shape you into the woman you were always meant to be.” 

“By being your servant-girl?” Anevay cocked an eyebrow and sneered at Lyrin in disdain. “You’re nothing, Lyrin. You’d barely be desirable even if I  _ did  _ like men.”

Lyrin’s eyes widened at that. His mouth even fell open in surprise. It was a tell for Anevay that he was expecting her to cave easier. She admittedly had a serious problem with caving most of her life. It had taken the intense physical and mental training she had undergone the last four months to truly kick that bad habit, but seeing the results come in the form of Lyrin looking completely lost for words was totally worth it.  “Y-You entitled little bitch!” Lyrin hissed after a moment of sputtering, his arm twitching with the urge to backhand her. “Have you completely forgotten who you’re talking to!?”

“Yeah. A pathetic sack of lynx shit who was so hopeless with women he had to try and marry an infant,” Anevay said scathingly. “Oh no, wait… he had to get his _ minn’da _ to buy an infant _for_ him.”

Lyrin’s scowled harshly as he felt the urge to strike become uncontrollable. “You bitch!” he barked, winding his arm back to strike at her face.  Anevay caught his arm by the wrist before he made contact, her grip on his arm less than gentle.  Lyrin gasped and winced with complete shock before her tried pulling his arm from her grasp. “You little… let me go!” he shrieked. 

Anevay let him go, causing him to lunge back and roll into the dirt with a rather undignified noise.

“This is fun,” she grinned as she watched Lyrin fumble in the dirt. “Wish I could have done this when I was five. Actually, do you still have that scar from when I bit your ankle?”  Lyrin did not answer as he was still tripping over his robes trying to walk back up the slight incline of the hill he rolled down. 

“Alright, that’s enough!” Enzaria huffed. “Young lady, you apologize to him right now and come back home right this instance! Or I’ll… I’ll…”

“You’ll what?” Anevay raised an eyebrow. “Scream? Yell? Hit me? I’m not a scared little girl anymore. And now I could break you in half if I wanted to.”

“You-! You wouldn’t dare!” Enzaria balked, taking a cautionary step back. “You’re not allowed to harm civilians!”

“I won’t get in trouble if nobody finds the body,” Anevay said, flashing her fangs in a sadistic grin.

Enzaria’s eyes widened with growing horror. “...Come on, Lyrin. We’re leaving.” 

“What!?” Lyrin asked incredulously just as he managed to right his robes and not stumble over his own feet. “You told my parents you would help us get her back!”

“Do  _ you  _ want to try and drag her back?” Enzaria asked. “We’ll think of something else, now  _ move! _ ”

“Ta ta!” Anevay said, giving the both of them the smuggest wave of her hand as she saw Enzaria yank Lyrin back down the dirt road. “Have a wonderful rest of your day!”  Lyrin only gave her a parting look of sheer impotent rage before turning away, all but stomping away as if he were a petulant child. Anevay wiggled her fingers in a farewell, grinning like an idiot as she watched them leave.

She’d done it. She’d forced her mother and that foul brat to leave without needing backup this time! She’d done it herself! She stood her ground and didn’t bend an inch!  With a delighted squeal, Anevay fell back against the grass and stared up into the evening sky. Once again, she was on cloud nine! Nothing could sour the great mood she was in, and she was going to savor this victory for as long as she could. No matter what might come of her in the future, she’d stood up to her mother. 

And that could never be taken from her. 

* * *

Anevay finished the run and nearly fell over into the dirt as she came to a stop. Her legs felt like rubber, but her chest wasn’t hurting. It never did anymore. Her legs often gave out before she did. She had decided to push herself in the exam and run at a faster pace than was expected, finishing the twenty-five mile run fifteen minutes sooner than she was supposed to.  The Ranger Lords were only mildly surprised at her time.

“Impressive,” Hawkspear said with a shrug. “But why did you feel the need to tear ahead of your comrades? Do you have something to prove?”

“Personal challenge, Ranger Lord,” Anevay said with a smile.

“Hmmm, very well,” Hawkspear shrugged. “Don’t make a habit of that in the battlefield, though. Showboating doesn’t win battles.” 

“I suppose the important thing is that you have passed your final exam,” Lor’themar said, approaching the proud, if a little wobbly legged Anevay. “Congratulations, recruit. All that remains is for you to take your oath and you will have become a Ranger of Quel’Thalas.” 

“Wait, really?” Anevay raised an eyebrow. “But… I thought basic training lasted six months? It’s been only four.”

“Sylvanas’ personal attention has been more of a benefit than you realize,” Lor’themar said. “Did you not know you were taking your final exam?”

Anevay’s eyes widened. Final exam? That couldn’t be right. She was still two months of training from her final exam. “I… I didn’t. I thought I was taking the mid-level exam.”

Lor’themar arched a brow at that. How could Anevay not have known? Did Sylvanas truly not tell her? Did she think the lack of pressure would help bolster Anevay’s confidence? In actuality, that does sound like the kind of tactic the Ranger General would employ the more Theron thought about it. 

“Well, it was the  _ final _ exam,” he confirmed. 

“Anar’alah…” Anevay whispered, clapping her hands over her mouth. She’d done it. Against all odds, she’d  _ done it _ ! She was a Ranger! She was free! “Thank you, Ranger Lord! Thank you so much!”

Lor’themar’s eyes widened at the sight before him. Anevay, who had just got done running twenty miles after already going through the other trials and obstacles of the exam, was suddenly bouncing in place giggling and girlishly squealing with delight into her hands. “...You’re… welcome?” he replied, uncertainty in his voice. 

“I’m sorry! I know this isn’t appropriate but you have no idea how badly I needed this!” she exclaimed, looking apologetic.

“Yes, I am aware of your situation, recruit,” Lor’themar nodded, turning to rejoin his colleagues. “Consider yourself free. Now go and rest. You’re sworn in with the other recruits tomorrow.”

Anevay nodded and sprinted off the field at top speed, no longer able to contain her squeals of joy. Squeals that could practically be heard throughout the entire training ground. She was prancing, literally  _ prancing _ about as the elation she felt gave her newfound energy she would have never thought possible. Never had she thought such bliss truly existed in the world, but dammit if she didn’t find it. 

No. Not found. She  _ earned _ it. 


	3. A Woman With Standards

**Year 4 -** **Shortly Before the Second War**

Everything had changed in such little time. Some sort of grisly portal had opened up in the deep south. Within a few short years, the entirety of the land south of Arathor had fallen. The remnants of the now former Kingdom of Stormwind had taken refuge in Lordaeron as all of the human kingdoms were planning their next move. Somehow, Stormwind’s Regent Lord had managed to twist the arm of King Anasterian and a small group of Farstriders, only about a hundred or so, were marching to Lordaeron. Ranger Captain Alleria Windrunner was technically their leader, but the Ranger-General was the one meeting with King Terenas. 

Much had changed for the Farstriders in the last forty years. With the threat of worldwide war on the horizon, they had mobilized and recruited intensely. Despite Anasterian’s hesitance to get involved, Sylvanas had prepared anyway. Her meeting with Terenas was itself unsanctioned by Anasterian.  That never mattered to her, however.

As they entered Lordaeron’s Capital City, Anevay looked around at the buildings curiously. She’d never been in a human city before. She’d never been  _ outside  _ Quel’Thalas before. And being the youngest in the group at sixty-four, she hadn’t yet acquired the signature Thalassian elitism that many of her colleagues had. The city was small, compact, and actually quite quaint when she thought about-  Her thoughts were interrupted when a rock nearly struck her head and she reflexively leaned back to avoid it. Glaring in the direction it came from, she saw a little boy giggling and picking up another. Two girls, one younger and one older, rushed in to stop him.

“Arthas, stop! That’s not nice!” the older girl said, grabbing the boy’s throwing arm. 

“Aw, c’mon! It’s fun!” the boy apparently designated ‘Arthas’ exclaimed. 

“No! It’s mean!” the younger girl explained. 

_ “Well, at least the girls here have some manners,”  _ Anevay huffed in Thalassian as she turned her attention to the path ahead.

They dismounted their horses and walked in formation toward the palace. As Sylvanas and Alleria moved forward to enter, Sylvanas turned back and pointed to Anevay and Velonara before beckoning them to follow. Confused, the two rangers did so.  Stepping into the palace throne room, Anevay found her poise breaking as she looked all around the place. Balconies circled the throne room, and the place was positively packed with leaders and generals. Anevay glanced at Velonara, who nodded. It was an unnerving place.

“The people of Stormwind lost their homes to these monsters!” one man clad in dignitary robes bellowed from one of the balconies. “We cannot simply wait for the war to come to our doorstep! We must strike back! Advance to keep the orcs from gaining any more land!”

“We would be throwing good men and women into a death trap!” another dignitary protested. “The orcs were dangerous enough as an invading force! We cannot hope to prevail when they have the territorial advantage. We must reinforce our defenses to ensure they do not take the northern kingdoms as well!”

“The orcs are but one group of people! These Kingdoms are many! With the aid of Quel’Thalas and Khaz Modan, we can best them in open war!” 

“Has Khaz Modan so much as responded to any of our ravens?!” Another demanded. 

Anevay glanced out of the corner of her eye to see the kids from outside skulking about the throne room. She raised an eyebrow at this. Were they even allowed in here?

“The fact is that we cannot just sit idly by and continue to deliberate!” Terenas exclaimed, standing up and commanding the attention of the entire room. “Every second we waste is another step closer the Horde comes to Lordaeron. Something must be done now, and it must be decided today!”

As the room fell silent, he finally turned to acknowledge Sylvanas. “I thank you for coming, Ranger-General. I know your King has been… stubborn.”

“King Sunstrider cares deeply for the safety of his people, Your Majesty,” Sylvanas replied, a wry smile gracing her features. “Alas, that dedication tends to lead to… tunnel vision to say the least.” 

“Understandable,” Terenas nodded. “And yet, we cannot afford timidness in the days to come. War is encroaching closely to Lordaeron and we will need every ally we can find to push back against this threat.” 

“What my offering lacks in numbers, it more than makes up for in efficiency, King Terenas,” Sylvanas said. “Every Ranger under my command is worth a hundred of these orcs easily.”

“I’ll be happier if that proves to be true, Lady Wind-”

Terenas was interrupted by the sound of clattering just behind the throne as a statue tipped over and smashed to the floor. They all turned around to see the boy slink out from behind the throne, looking sheepish. The girls rushed in as well, the younger of the two tripping over her dress.

“Arthas! Calia!” Terenas exclaimed.

“Sorry, Father,” Calia winced, grabbing her brother by the arm.

One of the other men in the room sighed in exasperation. “Must your son get my daughter into trouble at every turn, Terenas?”

The King turned to narrow his eyes at the other man. “Lord Admiral, this is not the time for such trivial disputes as thi-” 

“It would seem that circumstances are quite dire indeed if it is getting in the way of father and child,” Sylvanas interjected, her somber tone only slightly exaggerated. “Clearly the heirs of Lordaeron are restless in the absence of their weary and overworked father.” 

Terenas’ exasperated expression turned to one of just general fatigue. His eyes turned to his son and daughter. “It has been rather… trying, to say the least.”

“Not to worry, Your Majesty!” Sylvanas replied in a suddenly chipper voice. “On top of being deadly soldiers, my Farstriders are fully trained and equipped to deal with the young. Darkflare?”

“Yes, General?” Anevay asked, looking up at Sylvanas.

“Take these three and keep them occupied until our business is concluded,” Sylvanas said, gesturing to the two Lordaeron children and what appeared to be the daughter of Kul Tiras.

“What?! General, I-” Anevay’s words caught in her throat and she sighed. “Yes, General.”  Without another word, she took the children by the arms and led them out of the palace and into the city. She grumbled quietly at being stuck babysitting royalty, and wondered whether or not Sylvanas had seen them causing a fuss outside and had ordered her to follow specifically for this reason. The two girls weren’t a problem. The boy on the other hand was the one causing trouble in the first place.  She had a tight grip on Arthas’ wrist while the younger girl held onto her other hand of her own volition. Calia was following along.

“I’m so sorry about him,” she said sheepishly.

“It’s not your fault,” Anevay said with a sympathetic glance at the princess. “Who’s this other one?”

“I’m Jaina!” the little girl said, trying her best to curtsey while waddling along. 

“She’s Lord Admiral Proudmoore’s daughter,” Calia supplied. 

“I’m gonna marry her!” Arthas exclaimed proudly. “Father said so!” 

“As if, you little creep!” Calia said, flicking the back of the boy’s head. 

“Ow! Take that back!” Arthas scowled and tried to lung at his sister, but was kept firmly back by Anevay’s iron grip. 

“Okay, break it up! First of all, don’t provoke him when he’s already a little terror!” Anevay said, before lifting Arthas up by the wrist and off the ground. “Second, your father doesn’t get to decide who a little girl is going to marry. Got it?”

“But my dad’s the king!” Arthas protested as he continued to dangle helplessly in the air.

“No king rules forever, kid,” Anevay said, dropping him onto his feet. “When this girl grows up, she’s going to do whatever she damn well pleases.”

“I wanna read!” Jaina exclaimed, her mouth wide with a grin. 

“She is really good at reading,” Calia confirmed. “One of our handmaidens read the Mountain Goat to her one time and the next day she read it all by herself.” 

“Really?” Anevay smiled down at Jaina. “Well if we can find somewhere to tie up this little terror, I think I have something in my saddlebags for you.”

“Aw, but books are boring!” Arthas bemoaned. “I thought you elves were supposed to be warriors or something!” 

“Are you really an elf?” Jaina asked quizzically, her big blue eyes constantly shifting focus between Anevay’s ears and luminescent eyes.

Anevay lifted Jaina up onto her hip and nodded. “Mmhmm. You can tell by the ears,” she said, reaching up and pulling her hood back.

Jaina gasped, both hands on her cheek as she gazed at Anevay, practically mesmerised. 

“Pfft! Your ears are dumb!” Arthas said before kicking at Anevay’s shins. Alas, since she was wearing a pair of light grieves, the only thing his little foot managed to accomplish was hurting itself. “Ow!”

“Don’t let the fact that you’re royalty fool you into thinking you can do whatever you please, kid,” Anevay pursed her lips.

“That might be tough for him,” Calia snickered. “He is pretty thick skulled.” 

“Everyone learns eventually,” Anevay smirked. “Even if it’s too late.”

* * *

Enough failed attempts to get away eventually taught Arthas that Anevay wasn’t someone to mess around with, and he’d taken to sulking on the step of an inn while Calia sat at an outdoor table eating a lobster stew. Jaina was sat in Anevay’s lap, reading from a scroll about arcane magic. Her little fingers traced over the different runes with excited glee.

“Fro… Fr-Frost!” she worded out. 

“Very good!” Anevay exclaimed, bouncing Jaina up and down slightly in encouragement. 

As she held the girl on her knee, Anevay could feel a faint thrum of arcane magic coming from her. The girl would likely be a mage as she grew older, which explained why she was so transfixed by magical runes. She offered the girl a bite of bread, but it was refused as she kept reading.

“How many roo… How many  _ runes _ are there?” Jaina asked, tilting her head back to look up at Anevay. 

“Like… ever?” Anevay asked in response.  Jaina nodded.  “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe… a couple hundred? Thousand maybe?” 

“When I grow up, I’m gonna learn them all,” Jaina proclaimed proudly before returning her attention to the scroll. 

“ _ Yawn, _ ” Arthas bemoaned as he leapt off the steps to the Inn. “Who needs magic when you can rely on the ever trusty steel of a sword?” He accentuated his point by grabbing a nearby stick and swinging it around. 

“Magic can be used for stuff other than violence, dingus,” Calia deadpanned in between bites of stew.

“So can steel,” Anevay corrected her. “Magic and Steel aren’t opposed to one another. They can work in tandem.”

“Tandem? That’s a made up word!” Arthas scoffed. 

“All words are made up!” Jaina said, poking her head up from behind the scroll. 

“Okay, you! Stop being needlessly combative!” Anevay snapped at Arthas before turning to Jaina. “And you don’t need to justify yourself to  _ anyone _ .”

Jaina tilted her head curiously. “What does that mean?” 

“It means you don’t need anyone else’s approval to do what you love,” Anevay explained. “Like magic. Or making up words.”

“Oh, okay!” Jaina said, a wide smile growing on her face. Swept up in a bout of confidence, she extended one of her little hands out and waving it to and fro, likely trying to mimic one of the runes she was tracing a moment ago. 

“Fros’magic go!”

A single luminescent snowflake flew from her hand before slowly falling down to the cobblestone road before them.  Anevay smiled at the girl and patted her on the back. “Good job! That was really good!” she said encouragingly. “You know it takes elven children until they’re nine to be able to do that.”

Jaina gasped in surprise before giggling in absolute satisfaction. 

“Yeah that was… kind of amazing,” Calia marvelled, looking down to see that the magic snowflake was still on the ground. 

Arthas scoffed again. “No it wasn’t! It was just a single dinky-” His words stopped in their tracks when Anevay shot him a disapproving leer. “...I mean, yeah! Totally cool, Jaina!”

“You know, maybe the Magisters will train you when you’re older,” Anevay smiled, ruffling Jaina’s hair. “Assuming the Kirin Tor don’t get there first.”

Anevay rejoined the other Rangers when it was time to depart, after returning Jaina to her father. She spoke with Daelin Proudmoore briefly about Jaina’s magical abilities, and Daelin confirmed that he already knew and they were planning on sending Jaina to Dalaran when she was old enough to understand that her parents weren’t abandoning her. Anevay gave him the scroll she’d been reading to Jaina so she could continue to play around with it on her own time before departing with the others.

“So, how was babysitting?” Sylvanas asked as they rode out of Lordaeron.

“The two girls were fine. The boy was a blasted terror,” Anevay explained. “I swear I was so close to just putting a blade in his stomach.”

Sylvanas snickered at that. “So quick to start a war with our neighbors, Darkflare?” 

“Trust me General. If you spent more than a minute with that boy, you’d be feeling the urge to kill him too,” Anevay responded. 

“We shall see,” Sylvanas tutted.

* * *

Anevay yawned and sat down in her tent on the outskirts of Lordaeron. Alleria Windrunner had opted to make camp outside the city rather than mingle with humans. The different nations had opted to form a Council to better figure out war plans. And as it turned out their decision had been a well-timed one as the Horde had already been spotted on the border of Khaz Modan.  Lordaeron’s King had opted for a defensive strategy to keep the Horde from encroaching further, much to Lothar’s irritation. Soldiers and defenses had already been sent to the front, with twenty rangers. The rest were waiting.

“I hate waiting around,” Anevay said as she glanced over to the Captain, who was speaking with two other officers. “When are we going to do something?”

“Not sure,” Loralen shrugged. “Recounts from soldiers and refugees of Stormwind say that these orcs are quick to anger and violence so I can only imagine it’s ‘soon’. 

“Did any of those recounts say whether or not they could even build boats?” Anya asked. “If not, they’ll all probably just die in the mountains trying to make it on foot.”

“I can’t imagine they would have been able to conquer Stormwind if they were that easy to kill,” Anevay shook her head. “They hold half the continent. They’re organized and powerful. We should be meeting them with full force.”

Loralen frowned at Anevay’s words. “Uh, Darkflare? I know the General did posture about our skills to the king, but I’m not exactly in a rush to go and fight 100 orcs at once.” The elf suddenly shivered and huddled closer to the fire. “Especially not when I can’t seem to shake this chill.” 

Anevay glanced up at the others huddling around the fire. “If we don’t, we’ll just be whittled down little by little.”

“Curb your bloodlust, Ranger,” Alleria said as she approached the fire. “I know you’re one of Sylvanas’ personal pupils, but that doesn’t mean you know better than your superiors.”

Anevay winced at the accusation. “Sorry, Captain…”

Alleria nodded in recognition, her attention shifting to the entire troop. “The most important thing we can do right now is remain vigilant. This quiet stands to make us either impatient or lax. Neither one is good to have when the enemy finally arrives.” She turned her gaze back to Darkflare. “Now if you’re truly feeling restless, you can take tonight’s watch. Perhaps the evening air can cool the fire that burns in your veins.”

Anevay nodded, standing up and shouldering her bow. “Yes, Captain,” she said, immediately heading for the camp’s edge to relieve the other guard.

“Itchy finger, that one,” Anya chuckled. “I swear she’s practically thirsty for battle.”

“I’m surprised,” Loralen said, her ears shifting to listen where Anevay had gone. “You’d think she would have lost her taste for it after Zul A-”

“It is not our place to talk about that, ranger,” Alleria interjected sharply, prompting Loralen to flinch and subsequently apologize. The Captain’s gaze turned to the ever darkening silhouette of Anevay and frowned. In truth, she wasn’t surprised Anevay was like this even after Zul Aman. If anything it just gave her more that she felt she had to prove. Sylvanas did her best to convince her otherwise, but the wounds she suffered could not be so easily healed by pretty words.

“Captain, Anevay talks about it herself now,” Anya countered. “I mean, it’s been forty-four years. Don’t you think the ‘don’t talk about it’ phase is over by now?”

“Not when it’s behind her back,” Alleria sniffed. “And not when this discussion is only intended to fill the air between you with gossip. If you’re truly concerned with how Anevay’s past experiences might be affecting the here and now, then stop huddling around that fire and go talk to her yourself.” 

All of the Rangers fell silent and said nothing, looking awkwardly at one another.

“How about something a little more tame then?” Anya asked. Her sisters responded with a resounding nod. “Well then I’ve got a good one. Word from Quel’thalas is that the Ranger-General’s admitted a  _ human  _ into the Farstriders.”

“Oh yeah!” Loralen said, her ears perking up. “Didn’t he wander across our border trying to track some stubborn deer or something? What was the story there?”

“Yeah, he was captured and brought before Sylvanas. Said she was impressed by how far he’d tracked one deer and brought him into basic training,” Anya nodded. “Apparently the Ranger Lords are having a fit over it, along with the Prince.”

“Well, I mean, I’m all for annoying the Ranger Lords and the crowns, but do you think Sylvanas made the right call?” Loralen asked. “Sure, his tracking is supposedly impressive, but there’s more to being a Farstrider than that.” 

“The only one who can understand my sister’s reasoning is herself,” Alleria said plainly. “However, she does get results more often than not. Perhaps she sees value in this human.” 

“The most value I’ve seen in humans so far is their women,” Anya snickered. “They don’t have girls that thickset back home.”

“Eversong!” Alleria chided. “You know the rules about fraternizing on deployment!”

“Yes, Captain,” Anya said, rather glumly.

“Speaking of girls!” Loralen chuckled, sitting up. “Any idea when our resident newbie’s gonna be caught in some girl’s bed?”

“Not while we’re here. That’s for certain,” Alleria said, folding her arms. “We are here to fight a war. Not warm the bed of some farmer’s daughter. Darkflare can go chasing all the tail she wants when she’s on leave back home.”

“Of course, Captain. I’m talking about  _ when  _ and with  _ who _ ,” Loralen snickered.

“What do you mean  _ who _ ?” Lyana laughed. “Have you seen the way that girl looks at the Ranger-General?”

“Well yeah, but would the General even be interested?” Anya asked. “I mean, she could pretty much have anyone she wants and is known to be picky. She even turned down the Prince for crying out loud!”

“I mean… most of  _ us  _ would turn down the Prince even if we weren’t gay,” Loralen scoffed.

“People are already getting suspicious about the Ranger-General taking such an interest in that human,” Anya shrugged. “And they were just as chatty when she recruited Darkflare. They get chatty with every pupil she takes on.”

“Hmmm, what do you think, Captain?” Lyana asked, turning her attention to Alleria. “You know the General better than anyone? If she were to pick someone, who would it be?” 

“I believe I just told you, Sylvanas’ reasons only make sense to herself.” Alleria huffed. “If you believe seniority gives me any insight to her psyche, you’re quite wrong.”

“Is that your way of saying ‘If I told you I’d have to kill you?’” Anya pressed. 

“Do you intend to push your luck and find out,” Alleria countered coldly.

“Oh come on, Captain. It’s just some harmless chat,” Lyana said. “Just make a guess. It’s not like we’re storming into the spire and making accusations.”

“Very well,” Alleria scoffed with a roll of her eyes. “If I had to guess… I suppose it would be Darkflare. She is rather fond of that girl.” 

“I knew it!” Lyana cackled, feeling more validated than ever before in her life. 

“Hush! I said it was a guess!” Alleria scolded her.

“You don’t gossip much, do you Captain?” Anya asked with a giggle.

“I seldom have the time for it. Or the patience,” Alleria said before she was struck with a sudden shiver. “Especially when I’m this far from the Sunwell.” 

“Oh is that what that chill is?” Loralen asked, coming dangerously close to sitting  _ in _ the fire. “I thought Lordaeron was just really cold.” 

“Arcane withdrawal can lead to such symptoms,” Anya exclaimed. “I’m pretty sure we packed some mana laced cider for our time here, though.” 

“Not an awful lot,” Alleria explained as she pulled her cloak further over herself. “This deployment wasn’t sanctioned by the crown so Sylvanas could only cart off with what we already had. It has to be rationed carefully while we’re out here.”

“I have noticed that Kalira, Alina and Darkflare aren’t having any issue with it at all,” Anya whistled. “They haven’t drank any of their rationed cider and we’ve barely heard a peep out of them.”

“Some elves are more resilient in the absence of mana than others,” Alleria explained. “It’s a dice roll of biology, but they say that physical training has some factors. It’s why we’re here instead of our magisters.” Her gaze turned from the fire as something akin to a smile spread across her lips. “Kalira was always especially endurant.”

“And Darkflare wants to go further south and meet the Orcs head on,” Loralen scoffed. “We’d be scratching at our necks within hours.”

“Which is why we are remaining at our posts,” Alleria confirmed. “I’m not about to compromise our entire squadron simply because some of our rangers are resistant to Arcane withdrawal.” 

“Yes, Captain,” the three of them chorused.

* * *

It was pitch black, and Anevay could only see as far as the torchlight. She’d been standing watch for the last five hours, and by her best guess the sun would be peeking over the horizon within the next two. She sat down in the grass, leaning against the torch post, and let her mind drift. A poor decision in strange territory, but the boredom had swiftly made some very convincing arguments otherwise.  It had been forty-four years since she last saw her mother. Just a month before being sent off on her first deployment, which had ended with her being captured by a sudden Amani raid. She’d been held captive for a week before a rescue party had pulled her out. Anevay shuddered as she remembered what the Amani did to her during her capture.

Since then, she’d only fought harder and more aggressively. She was determined not to fail so horribly again. Despite reassurances from her sister rangers and the General, she couldn’t shake the fact that her first deployment had resulted in complete and utter failure.

A snapping twig brought her out of her thoughts and her head snapped up to the direction it had come from. She stood up, nocking an arrow and drawing her bow, ready to pin whatever stepped out of the shadows.  Only for her arm to slacken when Sylvanas stepped into view, with a human flanking her. “General!” she exclaimed.

“Evening, Darkflare,” Sylvanas said with a smirk while she approached. “You’re as vigilant as ever, I see. Has anyone else given you any trouble tonight?”

“No, General,” Anevay shook her head, standing at attention. “It’s been extremely quiet.”

“Oh, I hate it when it’s quiet,” Sylvanas bemoaned. “I can’t help imagining that there’s someone out there that thinks they can outstealth me.” 

Anevay let out a ginger laugh in response. Somehow, Sylvanas seemed to know just when her former pupil needed a laugh. 

“At any rate, Darkflare? I’d like you to meet my latest protege and inductee to the Farstriders. Nathanos Marris.” 

Nathanos, as he was so named, did not respond verbally, moreso he just gave a dutiful salute to Anevay. 

“Oh,” Anevay said, stepping forward and holding out her hand. “Nice to meet you, I’m Anevay.” Nathanos raised an eyebrow, looking skeptical, before taking her hand and shaking it. “...You’ve already pissed off the Ranger Lords, haven’t you?”

“I might have,” Nathanos confirmed simply, his expression remaining guarded and all around stone faced. 

“Oh, my. Three words out this time? Good on you Marris!” Sylvanas marveled teasingly. The General turned to flash Anevay a mischievous grin. “Marris here is very shy,” she explained in a ‘whisper’ that Nathanos could hear just fine, prompting him to frown deeper.

“Don’t worry, I won’t scare him,” Anevay whispered back. She glanced back to Nathanos and cleared her throat. “So when did you join the fold?”

“I just completed basic training last week,” Nathanos said gruffly.

“Oh I can imagine the vein on Lor’themar’s head,” Anevay shook her head with a chuckle. “I have no idea what that man’s problem is.”

“Oh the look of his face was positively divine,” Sylvanas snickered, clapping Nathanos on the shoulder. “Not that we had much time to savor it. Marris here wished to be deployed onto this campaign as quickly as possible.” 

“The orcs threaten my homeland, General,” Nathanos said matter of factly. “They are not going to take it from me without a fight.”

“You might have a while to wait,” Anevay said bitterly. “Captain Alleria has decided to stay here and wait rather than meet the Orcs in Khaz Modan. We’re actually going to be rotated out soon anyway.”

“Lady Sun is holding our position?” Sylvanas asked with an arched brow. “Is she that worried about our distance from the Sunwell?”

“I think so. She said as much to the others in between speculating on your love life, General,” Anevay informed her. Her cheeks flushed slightly as she recalled what Alleria had said.

Sylvanas did not fight back against the urge to roll her eyes. “Oh, typical. Everyone feels the need to debate the love life of the Ranger-General who has yet to settle down. Bunch of gossipy little sparrows.” 

“Hmm,” Anevay said as she looked down at the ground. She had overheard the entire conversation, and desperately didn’t want Sylvanas to ask her for the details.

“Well that doesn’t matter,” Sylvanas concluded dismissively. “If they have time to gossip while you’re on watch, then we shouldn’t be seeing any action today.” Her attention turned to the human at her right side. “Nathanos, you shall relieve Ranger Darkflare of guard duty so that she can get some much needed racktime.” 

“Yes, General,” Nathanos said, dutifully bowing before stepping forward and getting a lay of their perimeter.

“Thank you, General,” Anevay smiled as she turned to head back to her tent.

“Not so fast,” Sylvanas said. As Anevay turned her head back, Sylvanas beckoned her closer. “A moment.”

Wordlessly, Anvay made her way back to Sylvanas’ side. She wasn’t sure what this was going to be about, but anxiety began to settle right beside confusion in her mind. “....Yes, General?”

“I’m curious, Darkflare,” Sylvanas mused as she stroked her chin and carefully studied Anevay’s expression. “Did Lady Sun have anything to posit in that bout of gossip you overheard? I need to know whether or not to berate her for any outlandish assumptions regarding my preferences.” 

Anevay bristled considerably, rapidly debating in her mind whether being caught lying or telling the truth would be worse. “Uh…” she said, her expression already giving away that Alleria had in fact said  _ something _ .

“Alright, what did she say?” Sylvanas said, a frown already on her lips as she folded her arms. “Darkflare, I promise I’m not going to reprimand you for relaying the information. I don’t shoot the messenger. Just tell me.” 

“It’s not that, it’s just…” Anevay winced as she averted her eyes, her cheeks flushed a bright red. “She said that… if you were messing around with anyone… it was probably…” she sucked in air through her teeth and said “...Me.”

Sylvanas blinked and, apart from her eyes widening a fraction, her expression was otherwise unreadable. Seconds seemed to span for centuries as Sylvanas left the other ranger in pensive silence. One could see her turning that information over in her head, but they wouldn’t be able to gauge her reaction just yet.  That was perhaps the most insufferable part for Anevay. She was expecting Sylvanas to either become indignant, perhaps even outraged, or just brush off the information dismissively. This moment of no response that seemed to dilate and drag on and on like some trick hallway enchanted by some prankster mage. She was dangerously close to just dropping to her knees and begging Sylvanas to say something. Anything. Good or bad, anything was better than the silence. 

Then, just when she thought she could take no longer, that relief came in the form of a good natured laugh. 

“Well, it’s nice to know that Lady Sun recognizes that I’m a woman with standards,” Sylvanas chuckled, clapping Anevay fondly on the shoulder before turning her attention elsewhere. “Thank you, Darkflare. That will be all.” 

Anevay’s face went beet red as she nodded and turned away, returning to her tent.

_ ‘A woman with standards.’ _

Anevay practically covered her face as she stepped behind the flap of her tent and screamed into her hands.


	4. I Desire the Company of Friends

**Year Seven - After the Second War**

The newly born Alliance of Lordaeron was already seeing fractures. After the Horde broke into Quel’thalas and started sieging the elfgates, Anasterian had grown cold to the pact. Though the Horde had been routed, their campaign of carnage still tore through the lands with increasing ferocity. In the carnage, Sylvanas’ mother and brother had been slain. Though Sylvanas mourned quietly, Alleria had taken a battalion of Rangers to pursue the Horde back into Lordaeron and hadn’t returned. Rumors were abound that as the war was drawing to a close and the Horde sent onto the back foot, she had sought comfort with one of the Silver Hand’s paladins and had become pregnant.  Quel’thalas abandoned the Alliance after the war and sealed off the forest, becoming increasingly isolated. Life for the Farstriders became increasingly dull with only a flailing Amani tribe left to contend with and patrol after patrol after patrol. 

Anevay had been promoted to Lieutenant for her efforts in repelling the Horde, and pursuing them into Lordaeron. Though she didn’t join Alleria in chasing after them, she had nonetheless slain an army’s worth of Orcs, and had only been outdone by Sylvanas, the Ranger Lords, and Nathanos. 

As Quel’thalas settled into it’s new isolation, the political machinations of Silvermoon became more and more of a burden for everyone. Kael’thas had begun actively pursuing a political marriage with Sylvanas, which she had responded to with increased patrols and guards posted outside her home during the night. Her refusal had only incensed the Prince, and his already terrible attitude toward her recruits only doubled. He began actively pestering the Rangers that she had taken on as students: Lyana, Clea, Kitala, and Anevay. But most especially Nathanos.

That was how Anevay was stood outside Windrunner Spire in the dead of night, as Sylvanas only trusted those five Rangers to watch for the Prince and answer to her before royalty.

“We have a purpose here other than posturing, right?” Clea asked in hushed tones from atop the branch she was perched upon. “The Prince can’t just teleport into Windrunner Spire if he so chose, could he?”

“The spire is warded against things like that,” Anevay whispered back. “Anything that wants to get in will have to do so on foot. That’s why we’re here.” 

“So we can just threaten to shoot the Crown Prince?” Kitala raised an eyebrow to the Lieutenant.

“If it’s on Sylvanas’ orders, it’s her hide on the line. Not ours,” Anevay shrugged as she fiddled with an arrow. 

“Personally, I wouldn’t mind supporting the General in overthrowing the crown,” Nathanos huffed under his breath. “I trust her leadership over those fools any day.”

“Sunstrider may be a fool, but I can’t imagine he’d be stupid enough to try and… snatch the General up in the dead of night,” Lyana posited. “That comes with a ton of logistical complications.”

“If he doesn’t try that, he might attempt to hire some mercs to come by and scare her into complacency,” Anevay countered, not looking away from the arrowhead she was inspecting. “Such a tactic wouldn’t work, but it would be well in line with his idiocy.” 

“More likely we’re just here to make sure she isn’t being annoyed,” Kitala sighed.

“Well that was obvious,” Anevay and Nathanos said in unison before Anevay continued. “Apparently there was some kind of blow-up at the palace regarding… something. But whatever it was, both Kael’thas and Lor’themar are pissed right the fuck off.”

“The General rarely loses her temper over nothing,” Clea mused, a worried furrow deepening in her long brow. “Do you think she’s still grieving over the loss of Lireesa and Lirath? Their losses cannot be a small burden for her.” 

“Alleria still hasn’t returned from Lordaeron, either,” Kitala added with a solem shake of her head. “To lose her mother and brother is bad enough. I shudder to imagine what losing her sister will do to her.” 

“We really shouldn’t be talking about this,” Nathanos said firmly.

“Agreed,” Anevay nodded.

“Well look at the two golden children,” Clea scoffed, shooting both of them a scowl.

“You know how good Sylvanas’ hearing is,” Anevay huffed. “If there’s even a chance that she’s still awake and listening to us, I’m not going to risk gossiping about her.” 

Just behind her, the door opened and Sylvanas’ voice could be heard. “Darkflare. Nathanos. Come inside, I need to speak with the both of you.”

Glancing back, the door was held open just enough to speak through. Neither of them could see Sylvanas’ face. Nathanos took the door and held it open for Anevay to step through before following in behind her. Sylvanas led them to her sitting room and gestured for them to sit on the sofa. As she sat down herself, the both of them winced.  Sylvanas had been crying recently. Her mascara was running down her eyes. And from the looks of it, she hadn’t noticed.

“General?” Anevay prompted, unable to hide the worry in her voice. “Are you alright?” 

Sylvanas was quiet for a moment, her eyes cast down to the floor beneath her before she sighed and shook her head. “No… no I don’t believe I am.” 

“...Do you want to talk about it?” Anevay asked carefully.

Sylvanas shook her head. “No. I have more important things to discuss,” she said, taking a deep breath and trying to compose herself, before looking over to Nathanos. “Tomorrow, you will be promoted to Ranger Lord.”

Nathanos’ eyes widened considerably at that. “General, I… I don’t know what to say! I-”

“Good. Stay silent. You’re more charming that way,” Sylvanas said with a wry grin. The light banter wasn’t enough to convince the other two that she was alright now, but it was enough for them to quell the urge to press the matter. “This is something that you more than deserve, but I will not deny that there are other reasons I’m giving you this promotion.” 

“What would that be, General?” Nathanos asked. 

Sylvanas let out a weary sigh before continuing. “The Prince has found away to press the other Ranger Lords into line. “After I’ve kept refusing his advances, he will use them to try and pressure me into resigning. Say my grief has made me unfit to lead our forces. I need someone on their level that’s willing to stay by my side.” 

“I will gladly do that, General,” Nathanos said, his voice full of the resolute conviction that he was known for. “There is nothing they can say or do that will sway me.”

“Good,” Sylvanas nodded, clapping him on the shoulder before turning her attention to Anevay. “I’m promoting you to Ranger-Captain. With Alleria having not returned, her post will need to be filled. And I need trustworthy individuals right now.”

Anevay’s eyes widened and she put a hand over her chest. “I… I’m honored, General…”

“I could think of no one better suited to assume the position of my sister,” Sylvanas said, managing a small smile. “I know you will do the rank proud.” 

“I…” Anevay was speechless. She had honestly never expected in her life to advance past Ranger. She’d been focused solely on her freedom for so long, and merely proving she deserved to be here after that, that the notion of advancing had never even crossed her mind. The first time she’d been promoted had blindsided her completely. This was even bigger. “Thank you, General. I won’t let you down, I promise!”

“I know you won’t, Anevay,” Sylvanas nodded. “You never have.” 

Such praise caused a fluttering feeling to erupt in Anevay’s chest and it was far from a gentle sensation.

Nathanos clasped his hands together as he leaned forward in his seat. “Was there anything else, General?”

Sylvanas opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. She seemed unsettled by something. If Anevay didn’t know better, she would have sworn that she was  _ nervous. _

“...You should know, General, that we would never share classified information with anyone,” Anevay said, wondering if verbal reassurance was needed to get her to speak.

Sylvanas glanced at her and seemed to relax slightly. She had, in fact, heard Anevay and Nathanos actively quell the gossip about her outside. They could be trusted… right? “...In the absence of my sister and the loss of my family… I desire the company of friends.”

Anevay met that admission with a warm smile. “We can provide you with that,” she said softly.

Sylvanas’ gaze almost immediately appeared even more vulnerable than it was a moment ago. “...Really?” she asked, a slight break in her voice betraying her true feelings on the matter. 

“General, you’ve given more to the both of us than you had any right or reason to,” Nathanos replied, an honest to Gods smile on his face. “Your trust and your friendship would be just another of those immensely generous gifts.” 

Sylvanas let out a single shuddering breath as she briefly looked around the room. A room she remembered having such life and love in it since as far back as she could remember. The Windrunner spire was truly expansive for a family that mostly consisted of one woman and her four children for decades. Even so, this space never felt empty.  Now though? It felt emptier than it had ever been.  But perhaps that could change over time. Not overnight, but… eventually.  “You both have… no idea what that would mean to me,” Sylvanas said, looking back at Anevay and Nathanos.

She then surprised both of them, and herself, when she stood up from her seat, crossed the small distance between them, and pulled them both into a tight, near bone-crushing hug. The two of them were surprised, but eagerly returned it, wrapping their arms around her and each other.

Knowing that her face was shielded from their sight with how closely they were brought together, Sylvanas allowed her resolve to buckle and let out a single choked sob. It resulted in the both of them tightening their hold around her, which she was more than thankful for. There weren’t any words for them to share in that moment, but there didn’t need to be. She didn’t need words of sympathy. She didn’t need empty promises that everything would be alright, even if she would genuinely believe them from these two. She just needed something tangible. Something real. Something she could still hold onto.

* * *

“Sylvanas, you cannot be seriously going through with this!” Kael’thas exclaimed. “It’s unheard of! It’s a spit in the eye of our people’s legacy!”

Anevay and Nathanos stood behind Sylvanas and rolled their eyes. Once it had been made clear that Sylvanas DID intend to go through with promoting Nathanos to Ranger Lord, the others had blown a gasket. Attempts to stall, delay or block Nathanos’ promotion were constant.

“I assure you that I am, in fact, seriously going through with this, your Highness,” Sylvanas responded snidely. “Marris has proven himself many times over. His reported kills of Orcs and Amani were among the highest in our ranks. He saved the lives of me and my fellow Rangers more than once and he’s as sharp as anyone else who’s held the position. I see no reason not to appoint him as Ranger Lord.” 

“He’s a human!” Kael balked, the arcane in his eyes suddenly flaring with outrage. 

“And he’s proven that even a human can be one of the best among us,” Sylvanas countered matter-of-factly.

“But Sylvanas, you can’t just-”

“I may do whatever I please with my soldiers, Kael,” Sylvanas scowled. “If I wish to promote a human to Ranger Lord, I will. If I wish to order every Farstrider where bright purple, I will! And you will not presume to stop me!”

“Your authority is not absolute, Windrunner,” Kael said coldly. “The Ranger General answers to the crown.” 

“I answer to the  _ King _ ,” Sylvanas corrected. “Not to you.” 

If looks could kill, the glare Kael’Thas gave her would have certainly tried, but likely would have been just as impotent a failure as his arguments were.

“There is nothing you or the other Ranger Lords can do to stop me on this matter,” Sylvanas practically sneered. “Nathanos will be Ranger Lord, and Anevay will be Ranger-Captain. That is  _ final _ .”

“So what? Are we just to allow humans into our lands on principal now?” Kale’thas demanded, folding his arms and leering at Sylvanas. “Are we going to have human magisters? Elite Guards? Councilmen? Do you not see the dangers of giving even a single human a modicum of influence or power in our society?” 

“And what dangers would those be, exactly?” Sylvanas raised an eyebrow. “Children with slightly smaller ears?”

Prince Sunstrider’s nostrils flared as the arcane in his eyes flared again. “Your flippant tongue is not amusing, General,” he huffed. “Nor will it help you against what’s to come. Mark my words that people will be outraged about this. The people may very well riot in the streets after today!”

“Aside from you and your noble pets, I can’t imagine anybody will care at all,” Sylvanas said, inspecting her fingernails. “Anasterian’s already approved my decision. That should be enough for you.”

“Windrunner, you underestimate your capacity of dropping migraine inducing problems onto my lap,” Kael said before emphatically pointing at Anevay. “When you took that one under your wing, house Darkflare AND Meadowbriar screeched at us to do something about it.” 

“As I said. Ineffective nobles whinging,” Sylvanas responded airly. 

“My point is that you cause a great deal of problems for the Crown!”

“And what would you have had me do?” Sylvanas asked, raising an eyebrow. “Allow the girl to be sold into effective slavery based on a loophole?”

“You’re exaggerating the facts of the situation,” Kael chided. “She would not have been a slave.” 

“No, of course not,” Sylvanas said sarcastically. “Just completely subject to the whims of a man who demands that she cook, clean and suck his cock like a common maid, only with no pay. Completely different.”

“How a new family goes about their household is hardly any of your business,” Kael continued, taking Sylvanas’ bait to change the subject almost out of stubbornness.

“It is when the girl showed up at my doorstep begging me to help her get out of this trap,” Sylvanas folded her arms. “Who should I have sided with? Her? Or her mother?”

“What you should have done is stay out of it and not tear a young girl from her family only to assume control over her life yourself!” Kael’thas countered in exasperation. 

“I joined the Farstriders of my own accord, Prince Kael’thas,” Anevay said, finally speaking up and scowling at the prince. “The Ranger-General didn’t tear me from my family, she saved me from them.”

Kael’thas scoffed. “Ranger, I was talking to the General. Not you. Please do not speak unless spoken to.” 

Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “Well aren’t you just a delight? You know, I can truly tell that you care about Darkflare and her home life with how you talk to her.”

Anevay only rolled her eyes and glanced at Nathanos, silently saying ‘Can you believe this guy?’

“The point is that you cause far too much trouble than you’re worth, Sylvanas!” Kael’thas spat.

“The King certainly doesn’t seem to think so,” Sylvanas said, folding her arms. 

“That can always change, Windrunner,” Kael’thas warned. “The crown passes from head to head and laws can be altered with time. You should consider these facts every time you choose to test my patience with this. You’re not untouchable, no matter what you think.” 

“If the crown passes from head to head, perhaps we’re long overdue for a Queen,” Anevay muttered, eliciting a chuckle from Nathanos.

“Yes, yes, we’re all very impressed by your vaguely threatening huffing and puffing, Sunstrider,” Sylvanas sighed. “Was there anything else, or can my Rangers and I carry on?” 

A vein began to bulge on the side of Kael’s head that would have given Lor’themar’s a run for its money. “...This is not over, General.” 

“Well, I have a promotion ceremony to get to, so if you’ll excuse me,” Sylvanas said, turning on her heel. “Come, Marris. Darkflare.”

Nathanos turned and followed without another word. Anevay lingered only long enough to flash Kael’thas a look of contempt before following after her.

“I must say you are as lethal with your words as you are with your bow, General,” Nathanos admired as they turned the corner.

“It comes with the territory, Ranger Lord,” Sylvanas said with a proud smirk. “You cannot efficiently lead our kingdom’s armies by being passive.” 

* * *

Nathanos had been made Ranger Lord in a very quiet ceremony. The other Ranger Lords hadn’t clapped when he’d been draped, and indeed most of the Rangers didn’t as well. Only Anevay and the select few in Sylvanas’ personal squad of archers did, eliciting dirty looks from the others.  B eing in Sylvanas’ squad was arguably a bigger authority than being Ranger Lord. It gave the Rangers, regardless of rank, a certain degree of influence over not just the military but the entirety of Quel’thalas. It was unofficial, and a product of circumstance, but it wasn’t insignificant. Now Nathanos was not only Ranger Lord, but in the squad as well, which meant he was effectively one of the most powerful people in Quel’thalas’ military. Even Lor’themar, her second in command, couldn’t claim that sort of influence.

As everyone filed out, Anevay rejoined Sylvanas and Nathanos as they walked back to Windrunner village.

“Darkflare, I’ll need you to make a run to Silvermoon,” Sylvanas said almost immediately. “Deliver the report of Nathanos’ promotion to the palace.

“Did I do something to upset you, General?” Anevay asked, raising an eyebrow with a smirk.

“No, but you proved to be one of the fastest on your feet when you beat Velonara in that foot race,” Sylvanas quipped in kind. “Had you not, I would have given this task to her.” She pulled the scroll that contained her report from her cloak and handed it to Anevay. “Just a quick in and out, Darkflare. No stops in between. You’ll be fine.”

“Yes, General,” Anevay nodded, immediately taking off into a run.

Truthfully, Anevay loved running. Ever since she completed her first exam way back in basic training, she loved putting her body into action this way. Whether she was making a dash from post to post or simply prancing through the fields, she loved pushing her body to run faster and faster. It was exhilarating. It was intoxicating. It was one of the reasons her life as a Farstrider was damned near perfect.  She sped down through Fairbreeze village, already most of the way to Silvermoon when the ceremony had begun, and sprinted out toward the gates looming in the distance. Within ten minutes, she had cleared the gates and was speeding through the main city streets. She was forced to slow down to a jog when she hit the winding streets closer to Sunfury Spire. She could almost see the palace in the distance, when an arm reached out and grabbed her, forcing her to a stop.

“Anevay?” came the unmistakable voice of Lady Meadowbriar. “Is that you!?”

“Lady Meadowbriar?” Anevay raised an eyebrow at the woman and tugged her arm out of her grip.

The older woman’s eyes were wide with surprise as she looked Anevay up and down. She looked at her like one would look at a Lynx standing on its hind legs. As if she were odd and out of place. “By the Stars, my dear! It’s been decades since I last saw you! Where in the Sunwell have you been!? And what are you wearing!?”

Anevay’s brow furrowed, wondering why the woman who tried to buy her when she was an infant would be speaking in such a friendly way to her. “What do you mean? Didn’t my mother tell you?”

“Well, she told us that you ran off to join the Farstriders, but… I didn’t think she was serious!” Lady Meadowbriar balked, the reason for Anevay’s unexpected apparel suddenly clicking in her mind. “I had thought she was just saying that to save face or something of the like.” 

“No, I really did join the Farstriders,” Anevay nodded, her stance guarded. “I’m a Ranger-Captain, actually.”

“Oh!” Lady Meadowbriar exclaimed before a beat of awkward silence passed between the both of them. “Is… is that good?”

“Two ranks below the Ranger-General,” Anevay said with a shrug. “So yeah I’d say it’s pretty good.”

“Ah yes, that Ranger General. Your mother had some very choice words for her about this whole situation,” Meadowbriar recalled. “She’s the one who talked you into joining the military, was she not? How unbelievably predatory of her. So predatory that I literally couldn’t believe it when your mother told me. How could anyone sink so low as to manipulate a poor girl like that.” 

Anevay raised an eyebrow and would have laughed had her own history not been such a nightmare. “Actually she suggested it to me and I agreed of my own volition,” she explained. “There was no manipulation or predation at all.”

“Oh, no no no my dear,” Lady Meadowbriar tutted. “That’s the tricky thing isn’t it? They make you believe it’s your choice, but they use such manipulative and tricky language that strings you along and the next thing you know, you're on the front lines of a battle and getting mutilated by Amani. Happened to a cousin of mine. Trust me I know.”

“As opposed to manipulating a five year old into signing a contract she can’t understand so that you can freely buy her to give to your youngest son as a slave?” Anevay raised an eyebrow. “And then she flees and joins the Farstriders to escape such a horrible fate?”

Lady Meadowbriar blinked, seemingly not understanding what Anevay was saying before clarity suddenly dawned on her. “Oh! Oh, my dear no! That’s not what we did at all!” she exclaimed. “We simply procured you a safe and luxurious future!”

“You had four daughters, and you couldn’t try and sell me to any of them?” Anevay snickered. “Your son is a foul cretin, Lady Meadowbriar. And I was forced into that against my will. Which was why I ran away.”

“Oh, now don’t be like that,” Lady Meadowbriar tutted. “I know that Lyrin is a touch difficult at times, but that’s just marriage. It was the same way when I married Lord Meadowbriar and my mother married her husband and so on.” 

“I guess I just wanted better for myself than you or your mother did, then,” Anevay shrugged. “Either way, that’s why I fled and joined the Rangers. That’s why you haven’t seen me in years.”

“But dearie! That cannot possibly be better!” Meadowbriar protested. “That career is positively perilous! Wasn’t there a war recently!?”

“Big one, against the Horde,” Anevay nodded, stepping onto her back foot. “And before then, Amani incursions. That second one is how I got this, actually.” She lifted her hair and turned around to show Lady Meadowbriar a brand scar from her time spent as an Amani captive.

“Oh my word!” the older elf gasped, suddenly taking several steps back. “Darling, that is positively ghastly! How can you stand being a Ranger after all that!?”

“Because no matter how bad things get, I know I chose this for myself,” Anevay said, turning back around. “It wasn’t forced onto me by my mother. I’m a Ranger-Captain now. I’m in Sylvanas’ inner circle now. I’ve become more than I ever would have been as Lyrin’s shackled housewife.”

“Even if the life of a soldier ends up killing you?” Meadowbriar asked.

“I’ve lived longer than I would have as Lyrin’s wife,” Anevay shrugged. “I’d say I’m already winning in that regard.”

Meadowbriar gasped, a hand over her chest as she looked a healthy mixture of shocked and insulted. “Well! I never!”

“If you don’t want to believe it, that’s your prerogative,” Anevay shrugged dismissively. “But the reality is that I would have committed suicide within a decade. Your son is truly vile, Lady Meadowbriar. And even if I wasn’t gay, life with him would have been miserable.”

Lady Meadowbriar harrumphed before turning on her heel and starting to walk away. “Well in that case, enjoy your near destitute lifestyle, Darkflare.”

“I’ll be sure to do that!” Anevay called out after her. “And I’ll enjoy all the sex with beautiful women!”

She watched as Meadowbriar stopped dead in her tracks, turned back to look incredulously at her before letting out another indignant huff and carrying on down the road.

“That’ll never get old,” she laughed as she turned and continued sprinting toward the palace. This had been a good day. And now she’d tongue-lashed all three of them!


	5. Closer to the Sunwell

**Year 15 - Five Years Before The Third War**

“Hey, Anya?” Alina asked as she knocked on Anya’s door, peeking her head inside. “You got a minute?”

“Well I was about to start plucking feathers from my dragonhawk to fletch more arrows, but I can take some time on you instead,” Anya said before placing her book down. “What’s the situation?”

“I was wondering if you know if Ranger-Captain Anevay was seeing anyone?” Alina explained as she stepped inside and closed the door.

"Not to my knowledge," Anya shrugged before putting on a lopsided smirk. "Why? You planning on shooting your shot with her?"

“Maybe?” Alina said with a shrug. “I mean, her and I have been getting along lately, and I’ve been thinking… I mean she’s  _ really _ pretty.”

"That she is," Anya nodded as her smirk slowly curled into a knowing smile. "Well if you're gonna try and court her, I will say that she likes long walks and or runs, she's pretty much fine with going any place for dinner and she loves plants. Not just flowers or anything. She's actually into herbalism and stuff."

Alina arched a brow. "And you know all this, how?"

"I just like keeping tabs on all my fellow rangers," Anya shrugged casually. "You know… just in case."

“Blackmail or seduction?” Alina asked, folding her arms and leaning against the wardrobe.

“Why does it have to be either or?” Anya scoffed.

"You are unbelievable," Alina huffed, rolling her eyes. "But… that information should be helpful. Thanks Anya."

“It’s what I do,” Anya nodded with a cheeky smile. “Oh but you should know, it might be hard getting her attention. She’s got it  _ bad  _ for the Ranger-General.”

"Well of course she does," Alina said. "She's got eyes after all."

"Well yeah, but the General also helped her get out of a bad situation with her family," Anya clarified. "She kind of reveres her a little. Not that I'm saying you don't have a chance. Just that don't be too disappointed if it doesn't go farther than a hookup."

Alina's face did not so much fall as it did slightly sober. She was quiet for a time as she processed that information before she nodded. "Alright. Yeah, I'll keep that in mind. Thanks."

“Alright, then go get that charity case!” Anya giggled.

Alina rolled her eyes, turning and leaving the room. Well, there wasn’t any time like the present, she figured, and so she marched down to the coastline where she knew Anevay was patrolling.  Her eyes scanned over the beach and swiftly landed on Anevay walking just where the sand met the grass. Her strut was deceptively casual, looking as though she wasn't ready to draw and fire her bow at a moment's notice. It was a very attractive strut if Alina was being honest. 

She made her way over to Anevay, making no attempt to conceal her presence. She didn't want to risk pulling an arrow out of her if she accidentally startled her.  "Ranger-Captain!" She called as she approached. "A moment?"

Anevay turned around, an eyebrow raised. When she recognized Alina, she relaxed and smiled. “Alina, you can just call me Anevay,” she said, meeting Alina halfway. “I’ve known you girls since I joined, it’s weird hearing a rank come from you.”

Already, Alina felt a flush of embarrassment spread across her cheeks. “Right… sorry, Anevay,” she said, offering her a sheepish smile. “Just, uh… wanted to show you due respect, is all.”

“Trust me, you’ll show me more respect by calling me by name,” Anevay smiled. “I don’t want to lose my friends just because of my rank.”

“Alright then,” Alina said, a more comfortable smile spreading on her face. It was true what Anevay said. Even with her amazing progress over the years as well as her new rank, she was still, more or less just one of the girls. Still the ever approachable and easy to talk to Darkflare they knew and loved. “...I suppose that makes what I wanted to ask a little easier then.”  _ ‘At least a little.’ _

“What’s that?” Anevay asked, tilting her head curiously.

The flush in Alina’s cheeks deepened. This close she couldn’t help but be mesmerized by just how pretty Darkflare was. Flawless sun kissed skin so perfectly dusted with light freckles. That auburn hair that looked too soft and silky to be true. Her gentle blue eyes were always so warm and inviting. Truly, Anevay was a feast for the eyes and she couldn’t help but be distracted slightly.

“Well…” Alina began already feeling a little flustered. “I was thinking of some sort of preamble to start with, but… I suppose I should just be direct.” The ranger closed her eyes, took a deep breath and then met Anevay’s gaze. “Anevay… would you perhaps want to have dinner with me?”

Anevay’s eyes widened, and her cheeks flushed. “I… me?” she said, looking blindsided. “Are… are you a-asking me out?”

“Yes. Yes I am, “ Alina nodded, doing her best to keep her nerves at bay. “I have been thinking about it for awhile and thought… well I may as well try.” 

Anevay’s mouth hung open slightly. Outside of about maybe a half a dozen hookups with the other Rangers, Anevay’s love life had been rather dry over the last few decades. Partially due to her being so eager to jump into battle, partly because of how much time she spent around the Ranger-General. That Alina wanted to take her out…  “I-I’d love to,” she whispered.

Alina’s eyes widened, appearing to be utterly blindsided by that response. In truth, she was preparing herself for nearly every possible reaction.  Except, clearly, for that one.  “R-Really?” she asked, a smile widening on her lips. 

“Yes, I’d love to have dinner with you,” Anevay said, stepping forward and grasping Alina’s hands. “I… is this just a hookup, or…” she trailed off, looking hopeful.

“Oh, um… well I honestly hope not,” Alina said before flinching at her own words. “I mean, not that I wouldn’t. It’s just… well, I really do like you and… I was hoping we could have a little more than just a hookup.”

Anevay’s eyes widened again and she smiled, squeezing Alina’s hands tighter. “I think I’d like that too…” she whispered.

The pressure of Anevay’s hand in her own made a surge of confidence and excitement shoot through Alina. “Great!” she squeaked before awkwardly clearing her throat. “Okay, well… I know a nice little place in Fairbreeze. They make a great peacebloom salad.”

“Oooh, I haven’t had peacebloom salad in weeks!” Anevay exclaimed excitedly. “I’m off patrol in three hours, but I’ll see if the Ranger-General will let me change shifts early, okay?”

The smile on Alina’s face only grew wider as she resisted the urge to bounce in place. “Y-Yeah, that sounds great!” she agreed. “I’ll be in Windrunner Village whenever you’re ready. I… was hoping we could walk there together… if that’s okay.”

“That sounds great!” Anevay exclaimed, before immediately composing herself, feeling embarrassed for being exuberant so quickly. “I mean… yeah, that sounds good.”

* * *

Anevay sighed and knocked on the door of Sylvanas’ office-home. Upon getting the signal to enter, she stepped inside and cleared her throat. “Ranger-General,” she smiled. Despite the titles, her composure and attitude was friendly first and foremost.

“Darkflare,” Sylvanas said with an equally friendly smile as she placed the parchment she was going over aside. “Something you need to tell me or is this a social call?”

“I’d like to request an early shift-change,” Anevay said, leaning on the edge of the couch. “Farstrider Alina has asked me to dinner.”

Sylvanas’ eyes widened a fraction. “Alina Dawnblossom?” she asked. “The shy one?” 

Anevay nodded, unwilling to hide her beaming smile. 

“Well that’s certainly a surprise,” Sylvanas said. “Not that you aren’t quite the catch, Darfklare. Just that I didn’t think she’d have it in her to be so forward.”

“I guess she did,” Anevay smiled as she seemed to be restraining a fit of giggles. “So could I leave early? I’d like to get there before dusk and enjoy the evening.”

Sylvanas let out a small huff of laughter. “Well I can certainly be agreeable to that,” she said. “I’ll have Nathanos cover the remainder of your patrol. It’s not as if he has anything better to do.” 

“Oh thank you so much!” Anevay squealed in delight. “You have no idea how much I need this!”

“Not a problem, Darkflare,” Sylvanas said with a chuckle. “By all means have fun. Tell me what it’s like to see Dawnblossom come out of her shell when it’s all said and done.” 

“I’ll give you all the details, I promise,” Anevay winked as she reached for the door.

“You better!” Sylvanas called back as Anevay stepped out the door. She let out a fond sigh as her eyes returned to the parchment she placed aside. Her eyes didn’t quite focus on the words, however. Her thoughts were too preoccupied. 

She did genuinely hope that tonight went well for Anevay. She was a good girl and deserved someone to make her happy. Something more meaningful than just fooling around with the other rangers. Something she really needed but was always lacking.  Much like how Sylvanas herself was lacking the very same thing.  Another sigh left her lips. This time more wistful. It was moments like this that she dreaded the most. When those close to her were absent from the Spire and she was without enough work to occupy her thoughts. Those moments of complete loneliness.  Her eyes fell to a framed picture on her desk. Vereesa, her Little Moon, along with someone else. A human mage of the Kirin Tor she had recently taken interest in. It kept her in Dalaran a great deal these days. She was happy for her sister of course, especially since this human didn’t drag her through the Dark Portal as well. Still, in moments like this it only made the loneliness harder to ignore. 

“...Perhaps I should put myself out there,” she mused to no one in particular.

But with who? Sylvanas had a hard time connecting with people right off the bat. Her circle was small and rarely expanded. Her previous relationships had been with those she considered friends. Only a few of them were still around. Even now when she thought about potential partners, her thoughts immediately drifted to two people she was already on friendly terms with. One was a man, and therefore not an option. The other had just left on a date anyway.

“I guess it might be time to make a new friend,” she whispered.

* * *

“So then Nathanos puts an arrow right between his head and his ear. His hair actually moved when it flew past,” Anevay laughed as she drank more of her wine. “Theron shut up so fucking fast after that, it was  _ insane _ !”

Alina didn’t dare sip from her wine during this tale. After the way Aneva set the stage, she knew she would have spit it back out in laughter. “ _ Anar’alah! _ Was Marris so confident of his shot or was he truly aiming for Theron’s head?” 

“I’ve never known Nathanos to miss,” Anevay shook her head. “I’m pretty sure that was a warning shot. An  _ effective  _ warning shot, too! I flinched when he released that arrow. Pretty sure Sylvanas did too.”

“I probably would have jumped,” Alina snickered before she took another forkful of peacebloom salad into her mouth. 

By the Sunwell, this was absolutely joyful. The atmosphere couldn’t have been more divine. By the time they made it to the restaurant, the sky was on the cusp of the most beautiful sunset. A sunset that, coupled with the magelight on their table, bathed the area around them in the most soothing warm glow. The wine was excellent, the food was stellar, but the conversation? The conversation was the best of all. 

Neither of them had a shortage of things to talk about. Work, hobbies, interests, even the weather was a well of engaging conversation for them. If left uninterrupted, they likely could have kept talking for hours.  “Did Brightwing try anything?” Alina asked. “If there’s anyone I would love to see Marris set straight, it’s him.”

“Brightwing behaved himself. Nathanos outranking him and me being in Sylvanas’ inner circle probably made him unwilling to speak up. Theron’s second in command, so he’s a lot more bold,” Anevay shook her head. “Most of the Ranger-Lords and Captains have at least stopped openly complaining about him. They’ve moved on to other petty issues.”

“Let’s hope Sunstrider doesn’t catch wind and try to make it another problem for us,” Alina said. “I heard that with the war over and Quel’Thalas all but isolated again, he’s pushing to have our authority checked and limited.”

“Good luck with that,” Anevay rolled her eyes. “That prat still chasing Sylvanas’ hand?”

“No, I’ve heard he’s turned his eyes toward some apprentice in Dalaran,” Alina shrugged. “Gonna be a while, though. She’s not of age yet.”

“Ugh, nobility,” Anevay scoffed in disgust. “Always sniffing around in advance.”

“They really are cut from the same vile cloth, aren’t they?” Alina asked, her lip curled in a displeased fashion. “You know, for someone who is supposedly concerned with our racial purity or some garbage, he seems to have no problem eyeing human girls. Is it hypocrisy or just desperation?”

“You said apprentice in Dalaran, right?” Anevay asked. “Sunstrider’s a mage. Mage superiority will always come before elven to them. It’s why the Magisters didn’t care about Nathanos joining the Farstriders because they don’t care about the Farstriders.”

“Oh yeah,” Alina said with a wry laugh. “Because the mages are ‘closer to the Sunwell’ or something. Pfft. What an absolute joke.” 

“Who’s the girl he’s preying on, anyway?” Anevay asked.

“Some kid named Proudmoore,” Alina shrugged.

Anevay froze, looking up. “Wait… Jaina Proudmoore?”

“How’d you know?”

“I know that girl,” Anevay held a hand over her mouth. “She’d only be… sixteen? When do humans come of age?”

“Eighteen. Two years before us,” Alina nodded.

“I watched that girl when she was little once,” Anevay said, shaking her head. “I read her a magic scroll. I bounced her on my knee.”

“Really? When was-” Alina’s eyes widened with realization. “Right! Because you were deployed in Lordaeron! Alright, that makes sense.” She took a sip of wine before continuing. “Yeah, humans are a fickle race. They mature as we do, but they don’t have a chance to enjoy their youth and explore themselves before they begin to look like rotten fruit.” 

“Yeah it makes everything kinda weird when you start getting up there,” Anevay nodded. “Like, I’m Seventy-Five and there are humans younger than me getting grey hairs, it’s insane.”

“I hear that the human mages can last longer than most,” Alina mused whilst she gently swished the wine in her goblet. “Though it’s usually only two centuries at most, and I’m not sure if it stops them from... greying any faster.” 

“Hard to say. But yeah, like… if we wanted to court humans we’d have to aim a lot younger than us,” Anevay nodded. “Even the General would. But going after an apprentice who isn’t even of age yet? That’s just wrong. Kael’s disgusting.”

“Indeed,” Alina nodded. “Sure the General’s sisters went after humans, but they were at least adults.” The other Ranger blinked, a thought suddenly crossing her mind. “Actually, now that I think about it, does that make the predatory behavior a ‘Noble’ thing or a man thing?”

“I’m not sure, honestly,” Anevay shrugged. “The Ranger Lords tend to leer at the Rangers an awful lot, except for Nathanos at least. But they’re all nobility too, technically. Only non-noble man I’ve ever met was Nath, and like I said he’s pretty chill.”

Alina made a small noise that suggested that she was impressed. “Huh, the common folk are more chivalrous than the upper class. Go figure.” 

“Apparently, though I can’t imagine it’s that common regardless,” Anevay shook her head. 

Alina let out a small huff of laughter before a generous sip of her ever emptying goblet of wine. “Well, I’m appreciative of Nathanos for being such a gentleman. That said I can’t say I’m particularly interested.” The corner of her lips were teased with a coy smile while her eyes roamed over Anevay. “There are pastures that look far greener to me.”

Anevay blushed as she noticed Alina checking her out and popped another bite into her mouth. “Smooth, Alina,” she giggled. “You talk to every girl like that or just me?”

“I can hardly believe I mustered the courage to talk to you like that,” Alina said with a slight flush to her cheeks. “This wine must be stronger than I thought.”

“Why would you need courage? Am I intimidating?” Anevay asked with a cocked brow. 

“Not intimidating,” Alina said, shaking her head. “Just someone I know to respect. Honestly Anevay, I’ve met you the day we started training all those years together and I can scarcely believe you were ever that nervous noble girl who stumbled onto those grounds. It honestly feels like you’ve always been the way you are. Strong, determined, quick as a whip and… well, drop dead gorgeous. But knowing who you used to be, is… it just makes you that much more inspiring.” The smile on the other Ranger’s lips grew warmer as her gaze turned from general desire into softer admiration. “I can’t really see you as anything other than the best you. Just really wonderful.”

Anevay’s mouth hung open, equal parts astounded and unsettled by Alina’s emphatic praise of her. It was amazing that someone had noticed how far she’d come, and yet there was something that rubbed Anevay the wrong way about what Alina had said.  “Alina… that’s all very flattering, but…” Anevay took a sip of her wine to settle the chill running up her spine, “I’m not inspiring. I’m just a Ranger like everyone else. Everyone’s got their own story, and I’d appreciate it if you didn’t… act like I was anything special. It makes me uncomfortable.”

Alina blinked, an assurance that Anevay needn’t be modest was on the tip of her tongue before the other elf expressed her discomfort. Her ears flattened against her head as a more embarrassed blush darkened her cheeks. “Oh… okay, then. Sorry about that,” she apologized, managing to keep eye contact despite how flustered she was. “I... think the wine got to my head. I shouldn’t have overstepped and I won’t do that again.”

Anevay’s nervous expression faded into a grateful smile. “Thanks, Alina. I appreciate it,” she said, taking another sip of her wine. “The others have been behaving oddly since I made Ranger-Captain, and I don’t really care for it.”

“Well with you having so suddenly become a commanding officer to us, the others and I are just a little nervous about… being too familiar?” Another sheepish blush spread across her cheeks. “I… I guess I’m not sure what exactly the thought process was, but we weren’t sure if it was okay to keep talking to you as if nothing was different.”

“I’d prefer it. At least when we’re not on duty,” Anevay smiled. “I don’t want my friends to think they can’t still be my friends.”

Alina felt a comforting wave or relief ease onto her like a fur coat being draped over her shoulders. “Well… I will gladly remain your friend Anevay,” she said fondly. 

“Thanks,” Anevay’s smile brightened as she reached forward and touched Alina’s hand. “You have no idea how much that means to me.”

“It’s not a problem,” Alina insisted, feeling a slight surge of excitement from feeling Anevay’s hand against her own. Feeling emboldened, she reached forward slightly and brushed her thumb against her knuckles. “And… Thanks for talking to me about this. I honestly feel a lot less nervous.”

Anevay’s heart fluttered as she held Alina’s hand. “I feel the same way…” she whispered. She squeezed Alina’s fingers gently and felt the urge to pull her close, had it not been for the table in the way.

Alina felt that same urge, suddenly cursing the marble slab for getting in between them. In her periphery, she could see that the sun was being hidden by the spires of Silvermoon, meaning it was beginning to grow proper dark. “...So, did you want to perhaps walk off some of this drink? I promise you won’t have to catch me from falling over,” she said with a smirk.

“Sure,” Anevay nodded. She released Alina’s hand and stood up from the table, finding that the wine hadn’t unbalanced her in the slightest. “How does the eastern beach sound?”

“Sounds wonderful,” Alina said with a smile as she rose from the table a touch more cautiously. “The coast always looks lovely at night.” The other ranger reached into her rucksack and placed a small pouch of gold on the table before walking around it to offer an extended hand to Anevay. “Shall we?”

“We shall.”


	6. Uninspired Talent for Concocting Stories

**Year 19 - Meeting with the Kirin Tor**

Anevay and Nathanos stood at Sylvanas’ side as she and Kael’thas approached the Kirin Tor emissaries. Archmage Antonidas had arrived to meet with Quel’thalas to discuss… actually Anevay wasn’t entirely certain. Something to do with mages and politics, probably. She rarely paid attention to the emissaries these days. It’s not like she had to. It was mostly just something for Kael and Sylvanas to worry about.  Her eyes scanned over the Archmage’s entourage. There was a young woman standing right beside Antonidas. His apprentice, probably. There was also several other mages following along behind them, looking just as disinterested as she did. Likely they were only here for a formality. 

“Archmae Antonidas,” Kael’Thas greeted with a professional bow. “Silvermoon is honored by your presence.” 

“We thank you for having us, Prince Kael’Thas,” Antonidas greeted in kind before gesturing to the young woman who walked up beside her. “You recall my protege, Jaina Proudmoore?” 

“As if I could ever forget,” Kael said, his grin indulgently wide as he accepted the younger mage’s hands and brushed his lips along her knuckles. “Welcome to my Kingdom, Lady Jaina. It is a pleasure to have you.” 

Jaina smiled in response, though one could argue that it appeared more strained. “...Truly, the pleasure is mine, your highness,” she said politely. “I must say, I am truly surprised you decided to host us. Don’t these discussions usually transpire in Dalaran?”

“Well, milady, what are the High Elves if not devote masters of the arcane?” Kael responded haughtily. “It is only polite that we share the fruits of our labors with  _ like minded individuals _ .” 

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes at Kael, clearly not fond of the way he was looking at that young human.

“Actually, I was wondering if one of your Rangers wouldn’t mind showing me around Silvermoon? I so rarely get to visit the city, if that’s alright with you Archmage,” Jaina said, flashing a glance at Sylvanas. Anevay could have sworn she saw a blush grace the apprentice’s cheeks.

“I don’t see why not,” Antonidas said with a smile. “Odds are you would simply find an excuse to sneak off anyway.” 

“Well, if a tour of our grand city is what you desire, Lady Jaina,” Kael'thas prompted as he took a laguid step towards her. “I would be happy to obli-”

“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of imposing, your Highness,” Jaina said, taking a slight step back. “I understand you and my master have much to discuss in our time here. I assure you, a Ranger escort will prove just fine.” 

Kael appeared to have been thrown by Jaina’s rather blatant dismissal before he tried to recollect himself. “Well, milady, I-” 

“The young mage is right, Your Highness,” Sylvanas interjected, taking that moment to step forward. “She knows better than to disrupt your daunting schedule for something as frivolous as a walk around town. Worry not, I will be more than willing to take the young madam off her hands.” She met Kael’s look of befuddlement and barely repressed outrage with a smile that seemed professional to all but those who knew Sylvanas. 

In that instant, neither elf quite saw just how Jaina was looking at her. Eyes wide, lips parted and cheeks astonishingly flushed.

“Darkflare, escort Lady Proudmoore to Murder Row,” Sylvanas said with a wave of her hand. “I will meet you there to show her around the city.”

“Yes, General,” Anevay nodded, looking at Jaina and gesturing down the steps of the spire. “Shall we?”

“Yes, thank you,” Jaina nodded as she turned away from Sylvanas and followed Anevay down the steps. 

As soon as they were far enough away, Anevay spoke. “You sure were checking out the Ranger-General, weren’t you?”

Jaina squeaked slightly as the red grew even bolder on her face. “I… I hadn’t realized she was, in fact, the Ranger-General,” she admitted sheepishly. “I didn’t think someone at such a station would agree to do something so mundane. It seems a little above her pay grade, honestly.”

“You’d be surprised what she’ll do to spite Kael’thas,” Anevay chuckled. “The damn prince was trying to trap her in a political marriage a few years ago.”

“I know that feeling,” Jaina sighed. “He’s been doing the same to me. Right after I got out of a bad relationship, too.”

“Bad relationship?” Anevay asked.

“Oh, I was… once betrothed to the crown Prince of Lordaeron,” Jaina explained. “It was very brief. I realized shortly after I said yes that I was making a mistake. It was-” The mage suddenly sighed with exasperation as her face came to rest in her hand. “Oh, listen to me. Two minutes into a conversation and I’m already oversharing. Forgive me, miss. I needn’t trouble you with my concerns.” 

“It’s fine,” Anevay smiled. “I know Menethil’s brat is a nightmare.”

Jaina cocked an eyebrow. “Have you met him?”

“Years ago. You as well actually,” Anevay smiled. “I watched the both of you and his sister while your fathers were deliberating on the Second War.”

The young human blinked with surprise. “Oh, my! That was… I had to have been little more than a baby back then!” 

“A surprisingly well behaved baby,” Anevay added. “And smart. You were very quick to understand the spell scrolls I showed you.” 

Jaina felt another bout of flustered nerves wash over her, albeit for different reasons as she grinned sheepishly at Anevay. “Heh… small world, I suppose.” 

“I won’t say a word to the Ranger-General,” Anevay snickered as she clapped a hand on Jaina’s shoulder. “You know how elves can be.”

“They’ll keep the same perception of you for fifty years,” Jaina groaned with a nod.

“How’ve you been doing, anyway?” Anevay asked, giving Jaina a curious look. “Being the Archmage’s apprentice must mean you’re powerful.”

“That seems to be the general consensus,” Jaina nodded in confirmation. “Apparently, being able to tame a wild sea elemental is not a common occurrence for a nine year old. After that they sent me to the Kirin Tor and my continued aptitude earned me the position of Antonidas’ apprentice.”

“Impressive,” Anevay nodded. “It’s good to see you’re still as promising as you used to be. When I heard Kael had been hovering over you, I was worried that he’d destroy your life trying to shackle you to him.”

Jaina frowned at that. “Is his pursuit of me truly such common knowledge?” she asked as they descended down the steps of Sunfury Spire. “Am I about to explore a city where I already have a reputation?”

“It is common knowledge, but most people won’t recognize you,” Anevay shook her head. “It’s mostly ‘Kael is trying to secure the hand of a mage apprentice, how sad.’”

“...Do you look down on human mages here?” Jaina asked.

“No, this gossip is four years old,” Anevay explained. “How old are you?”

“Twenty,” Jaina said, then her eyes widened. “...Oh.”

“Exactly,” Anevay smirked. “The gossip was always more at his expense than yours.” 

Jaina gave an understanding nod and the air between them fell silent for a moment as they neared their destination. Her lips pursed slightly as a thought turned over in her head. Her eyes darted to and fro as she considered what it was she wanted to ask the elf that had apparently known her since she was a child. “...So you know the Ranger General, right?” 

“We’ve worked together for several decades, yes,” Anevay nodded. 

“What’s she like?” Jaina followed up. 

“She’s a kind, compassionate woman with little patience for the Crown’s politics,” Anevay explained, a fond smile on her face. “She’s been a dear friend for fifteen years, and I can’t imagine you’d be in safer hands with her escorting you.”

The red returned to Jaina’s cheeks to the point that she was suddenly fanning herself. “Goodness, this… this weather is warmer than I was expecting,” she said, a slight tremor in her voice.

Anevay chuckled softly as she watched the young woman try and make excuses for how flustered she was. “Jaina?” When Jaina looked at her again, she smiled. “Just don’t overdo it trying to impress her. She hates that. Just be casual.”

“Oh, um…” Jaina bit her lip as she gave Anevay’s words some thought. “...I mean I know I certainly thought about it. You saw as much.” The two of them stopped at the entrance to Muder’s Row and Jaina began smoothing out her robes. A nervous habit perhaps. “Now that I know who she is, however, I… I’m not sure if I have the nerve. But… I can be casual. I can be casual and just… hope for the best?”

“I think you can do more than just hope,” Anevay chuckled. “Relax Jaina. She’s actually quite nice. She’s not a stuffy aristocrat you have to be afraid of. She’s just a soldier like anyone else.”

The mage took a deep breath as she tried to calm herself. “Okay. Relax. I can do that. She and I can just be two women enjoying a casual and relaxing afternoon together away from the lecherous eyes of a stuffy, borderline predatory prince. Easy.” 

“No problem! You got this!” Anevay exclaimed.

* * *

Sylvanas led Jaina through the Farstrider’s Square, the apprentice’s arm hooked in her own while the young woman was hanging on her every word. Sylvanas was explaining the history of her own order, introducing her to different Rangers as they went.

“Are there only archers in the Thalassian military?” Jaina asked curiously. “Any warriors? Navy?”

“Of course,” Sylvanas nodded with a smile. “Our navy patrols around the coastline and escorts trade ships while Silvermoon and its surrounding villages are protected by the Royal Guard.” She directed Jaina’s attention to a pair of soldiers in bold crimson armor with elegant full bodied shields and double-bladed glaives in hand. “My Farstriders mostly safeguard the lands on our borders as well as foreign deployment. Our emphasis on physical training over Arcane discipline makes us ideal for assignments far from the Sunwell.” 

That final remark caused Jaina’s brow to furrow. “Is it… difficult to be far from your Sunwell?” she asked.

“Generally yes, but especially so for our mages,” Sylvanas conceded. “If they get too far from the Sunwell without supplemental mana, they can suffer from arcane withdrawal. Years of proper training can teach one to overcome such an obstacle, but it is still a struggle.”

“I see glaives, but… do you have any swordswomen?” Jaina asked curiously.

“There are warblades in our arsenal, but no elves that specialize in them,” Sylvanas shook her head. “They’re… I suppose secondary weapons. Warriors as you or the humans understand them don’t really exist in Quel’thalas. Spellbreakers. Guards. None who wield a blade and physicality alone.”

“Your military is quite different from the one of my Homeland, Lady Windrunner,” Jaina responded, a fond smile nonetheless on her lips as they talked.

“We value accuracy and finesse,” Sylvanas nodded as she led Jaina deeper into the square. “A well placed arrow will eliminate the need for large shields.”

Jaina giggled. “Is this accuracy and finesse something that comes naturally to your people or is it the result of hard work?” 

“Very hard work,” Sylvanas explained. “That Ranger who led you out of the spire? When I met her she could barely hold an arrow without dropping it.”

“Really?” Jaina asked. “How long did it take her to get that fit then?” she asked, her mind drifting back to the muscle she could remember seeing on Anevay through the gaps in her armor.

“A year,” Sylvanas explained. “And plenty of back-breaking work. Anyone can be a Ranger if they apply themselves, Lady Proudmoore. One of our Ranger Lords is a human.”

Jaina’s eyes widened at that. “Really? I hadn’t thought such a thing would be allowed. I know the High Elves work closely with Dalaran, but I didn’t think your customs would extend so far as to allow humans to achieve rank in your military.” 

“Well if our dear prince were to have his way, they wouldn’t be,” Sylvanas said with an annoyed huff. “Do not let Sunstrider’s lustful pursuit of you suggest otherwise, Lady Proudmoore. That man is incredibly xenophobic.”

“I had figured. The way he speaks of the Kirin Tor is nothing short of shameful,” Jaina sighed, shaking her head. “So then how were you able to overcome the xenophobia of royalty?”

“I am the Ranger-General,” Sylvanas smirked. “I do as I please.”

Jaina blinked with surprise before an amused smirk played at her lips. “Is it wise to allow a military leader to have such unchecked authority?” she asked. 

“I’m not sure,” Sylvanas said with a casual shrug. “Your kingdom is ruled by a Lord  _ Admiral _ if I recall. Perhaps you should tell me.” 

Jaina laughed lightly at that. “Fair enough.” She likely would have said something else before she felt a sudden and intense churning in her stomach. It was loud enough that Sylvanas’ elven ears definitely picked it up, much to her embarrassment. “...Oh dear. Um, Lady Windrunner, I do not mean to impose, but… I don’t suppose there’s a place around her we can find something to eat? I admittedly only have had a mana bun for breakfast today.”

“I believe I may know a place,” Sylvanas smiled. “What sort of food are you partial to? What do you eat in Kul Tiras?”

“Oh, I haven’t had Kul Tiran food in so long… uh, it’s greasy and hearty. A lot of seafood, some heavy ale,” Jaina nodded.

“I think there is one tavern on Murder Row that could provide something close to what you’d like,” Sylvanas’ smile turned into a smirk. She held her hand out to Jaina and pointed the other down a walkway. “This way.”

Jaina gingerly accepted the hand Sylvanas offered her, almost immediately finding the feel of a ranger’s grip to be her liking as she allowed herself to be swept away by this beautiful, considerate and clever woman. 

* * *

The Ale brought to their table by the tavern girl reeked more of mana than it did alcohol, but the taste was to Jaina’s liking, reminding her at least somewhat of home. Sylvanas had her looking forward to the fish they ordered, saying it always hit the spot for her.  “You are truly too kind, Ranger General,” Jaina said after a hearty swig of her ale. “I feel as though I should have known you for longer before I bothered you about a meal.”

“Oh it’s no trouble at all. If those mages cannot feed you properly, then I’ll just have to pick up the slack,” Sylvanas chuckled.

“How did you know there was a dive bar tucked away in the middle of Silvermoon of all places?” Jaina asked.

“Nathanos and Anevay found it. It’s their favorite place in the city to eat,” Sylvanas explained. “Nathanos enjoys the familiar food, and I swear Anevay is trying as hard as possible to  _ not  _ be an elf.”

“What makes you say that?” Jaina asked, cocking her head. “How so?” 

Sylvanas took a sip of her ale before responding. “Well, to name a few examples she’s very partial to strength training, she eats like a Belore-damned horse, and her idea of a ‘dream home’ is a log cabin as far from civilization as possible. I swear, if she finds a way to replace her elven ears for human ones she will find it.” 

“Eats like a horse and prefers strength training? Sounds more like an orc than a human or elf,” Jaina snickered.

Sylvanas very nearly spat her drink out at that. “Anar’alah!” she choked out. “I do not need that mental image! If I catch her developing an underbite after this, I am holding you personally responsible, Lady Proudmoore.” 

“Uh… well, you might want to start holding me responsible,” Jaina chuckled, leaning down slightly and looking at Sylvanas’ lips. “Because if she’s anything like you, she already has one.”

Sylvanas gasped, covering her mouth with one hand. “Lady Proudmoore. I most certainly do not have an  _ underbite _ !”

“Then what are those long, sharp teeth there?” Jaina asked, pointing at Sylvanas’ mouth.

Sylvanas blinked before running a tongue over the the teeth she suspected Jaina was talking about. “...Well, just because I have fangs on both my top and bottom row of teeth does not mean I have an underbite! They are all the same length, thank you very much.” 

The Ranger General’s ear flicked when she heard a particularly loud commotion near the front of the tavern. She tilted her head slightly to catch a rather burly looking elf arguing with the barkeep. “Ah! You see! If any elf is at risk of having an underbite, it’s him!” she said gesturing to the outraged man without fully turning around. “Look at how he’s pointing his chin out.”

Jaina turned to look where Sylvanas was pointing. “No… no, I think he’s trying to look down on the bartender. Kael’thas does the same thing when he’s arguing with someone he thinks is beneath him. See? He’s looking down his nose at him.”

Sylvanas tilted her head back again to more carefully observe the man. “Hmm… actually, you might be right,” she said, making a small noise in the back of her throat to convey slight fascination. “You seem to have an eye for detail, Lady Proudmoore. I’m impressed.” 

“It’s just something I picked up in Dalaran. Everyone’s so cryptic and stuffy, you have to learn to read people,” Jaina shrugged, glancing at a woman who just walked in. She looked exhausted and angry, and sat down at the bar. Almost immediately, a woman working the bar approached her and offered her a drink. “She looks like she’s seen better days.”

Sylvanas caught the new patron in her periphery, almost immediately catching the distress she gave off. “Oh dear. What do you think is troubling her?” 

“If I were to make an educated guess,” Jaina mused, narrowing her eyes slightly as she focused on the other woman. “I would say… failing marriage.” 

“Really?” Sylvanas arched a brow.

“I don’t know, I’m just guessing,” Jaina chuckled.

“Ah, I see,” Sylvanas gave her a wry smirk, catching on to what she was doing. “So how’s she dealing with it?”

“She’s having an affair,” Jaina said, glancing at the bartender. “A really unhealthy, codependent affair with the bartender.”

Sylvanas snickered. “Just a blind guess, or is there more reasoning behind your conclusion.” 

“That girl she’s talking to right now is the one who took our orders,” Jaina continued. “She seems hard working and very eager to please. Couple that with how she’s looking at that distressed girl right now, it’s likely she will want to do everything she can to ease the troubled wife’s suffering. However, her mistake is giving too much of herself too quickly and creating an imbalance of emotional labor where she puts more into the relationship than she receives.”

“Anar’alah,” Sylvanas marveled. “How bad is it?” 

“It’s likely the wife will want to move out of Silvermoon once she realizes the marriage is in shambles and all but demand the bartender drop everything to come live with her,” Jaina concluded. “She’ll likely agree because she sees this poor damaged woman as her last chance for personal happiness.”

“Ugh, what a tragedy,” Sylvanas shook her head, glancing at a pair of women who walked into the bar. “What about those two?”

“Travelling back in time to prevent a catastrophe and be time fugitive wives,” Jaina said without any hesitation.

Sylvanas’ eyebrows perked up. “Now that’s a love story!”

Jaina chuckled, her attention turned back to Sylvanas. “Would you consider yourself a romantic, Lady Windrunner?” 

“I dabble,” Sylvanas shrugged between sips of her ale.

“Really? Care to elaborate?” Jaina asked, leaning forward against the table.

“I’ve had a dalliance with a Ranger here and there,” Sylvanas chuckled. “The priestess Liadrin. My Second-in-Command for a short while.”

“Oh? Just dalliances?” Jaina mused playfully. “Has no one managed to steal the heart of Quel’Thalas’ esteemed Ranger General?” 

“Not for lack of trying, I assure you,” Sylvanas chuckled. “If I had a copper for every nobleman I didn’t know who asked for my hand, I could buy out the crown.” 

“I’m not talking about nobles asking for your hand,” Jaina chuckled. “I’m talking about someone who’s actually charmed you.”

Sylvanas turned a warm smile toward Jaina. “There might have been a few,” she said silkily.

“Go on! Tell me! I’m curious!” Jaina urged her.

“Well there was a priestess whose hair shined the most lovely shade of golden brown in the sunlight,” Sylvanas said, leaning forward and resting her arms on the table. “A young Ranger with no self-preservation instinct and a lot to prove. And a mage with an uninspired talent for concocting stories on the spot.”

Jaina opened her mouth to respond before the meaning of Sylvanas’ words finally dawned on her. Even in the low lighting of the tavern, the flush of red that grew on her cheeks was plain to see. “Oh… oh my.” 

Sylvanas’ smile faltered slightly at seeing how uncomfortable Jaina looked. “...If I’ve overstepped, I apologize,” she said, sitting up straight.

“Oh! Oh, no no no! It’s fine!” Jaina stammered out, her face growing redder. “I just… I wasn’t aware I made such an impression so quickly. I was certain that would have taken longer.”

Sylvanas’ ears canted upward with intrigue as a curious grin returned to her face. “You were certain  _ what _ would have taken longer?” 

“Oh! Um…” Jaina averted her eyes as she tucked a stray lock of hair behind her ear. Despite her nervousness, she couldn’t help but feel her mouth turn upward in a smile. “...Wooing you, I suppose.”

Sylvanas cocked an eyebrow. “Wooing  _ me _ ?”

Heat flushed into her cheeks as Jaina struggled to retain eye contact. “I… I hope I didn’t offend, Lady Windrunner. I assure you I wasn’t… expecting anything out of today. I just was quite taken by you in the Spire earlier and thought I could… enjoy your company. ...Oh dear.” She resisted the urge to simply turn invisible and call it quits for the rest of the day as she awaited Sylvanas’ response.

Sylvanas smiled and sat back in her chair, letting out a soft chuckle. “And here I thought  _ I  _ was the one wooing  _ you _ ,” she said, taking another sip of her wine.

Jaina’s eyes widened at that. The momentary surprise soon gave way to a relieved fit of laughter. Any response she might have given right away was halted when the bartender arrived at their table with their order. The mage watched as her dish was placed down in front of her. Sunfury Haddock it was called. She inhaled deeply through her nostrils, not finding the seafood to smell exactly like home, but damned well close enough. 

“Oh, by the Tides! That’s the stuff,” she sighed blissfully before even touching her fish. “Thank you so much.” 

The waitress smiled at her while laying down Sylvanas’ plate and politely excusing herself to tend to other tables.

“I’m glad I trusted my friends’ judgment then,” Sylvanas said with a smile as she took a bite of her fish. She’d told the waitress to cook Jaina’s especially greasy so it would be closer to Kul Tiras, but her own was smoked and lightly seasoned.

Jaina eagerly took a forkful of the fish into her mouth and instantly melted. It was heartier than anything she had remembered eating in years and the nostalgia it offered was downright euphoric. She was torn between eating this marvelous haddock as quickly as she could, or savoring each immaculate bite. 

“Mmm! Okay, it’s official,” Jaina said after swallowing the fish. “Quel’Thalas has the best food this side of the mainland. No debate.” 

Sylvanas chuckled in satisfaction. “I’m glad I could find a tavern that could suit your eclectic tastes, Lady Proudmoore,” she said, taking another small bite of her fish. “Remind me to thank those two for the recommendation.”

“I absolutely will,” Jaina confirmed before taking another bite. Another wave of tasteful nostalgia hit her so hard, she feared might cry. “Oh by the Tides! Me taste buds will be singin’ shanties for days!” she mewled, her delight causing her Kul Tiran accent to slip through.

Sylvanas did a double-take and set her wine down. “Why Lady Proudmoore, have you been hiding an accent this entire time?” She smirked wickedly as she leaned forward on the table.

Jaina chuckled at herself in response, waiting until she swallowed to answer properly. “Oh, aye,” she confirmed. “When you train in Dalaran, it’s advised to keep th’ tongue of your kin below deck if you know what I mean.”

“What a dreary place,” Sylvanas rolled her eyes. “You should show your accent to Kael’thas and the Archmage when we return. It’ll be  _ wonderful _ .”

Jaina cackled at that. “That should keep the damned scuttlebutt off me arse for a while, eh?”

Sylvanas laughed. An open, loud, delighted laugh that she normally kept contained in front of others. “Oh indeed. He  _ despises  _ so many dialects. I’m surprised he even speaks Common at all.”

“Maybe I should offer to take him out for a pint o’ grog to see if he has a bleedin’ conniption,” Jaina snickered before taking another mouthful of haddock.

“It must be torture holding that in for so long,” Sylvanas shook her head, a bright smile on her face. “By the way, what is ‘grog’?”

“Oh it’s just rum mixed with water,” Jaina said. “Helps keep ye hydrated and in good spirits on long voyages. Or just for a night out with the lads.” 

“Interesting,” Sylvanas nodded. It sounded like a cheap, lowbrow drink. But already she could tell that Nathanos and Anevay would probably like it. “So tell me. Who is the  _ real  _ Jaina Proudmoore? I’d like to meet her.”

Jaina pursed her lips as she gave the question some thought and swished the wine inside her goblet. “Not much to the real Jaina Proudmoore once you get past the titles and apprenticeship, sorry to say. Just a lass who would have been happy to spend the rest of her days cooped up in the library with perhaps one good bout of sailing a week. But bein’ the Lord Admiral’s daughter doesn’t really afford you such a lifestyle. Especially not when everyone and their Tides-damned grandmother kept goin’ on an’ on about me magical potential and what that has to mean.” 

“I was under the impression you enjoyed arcane magic?” Sylvanas asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I do, but if I’d been given the choice I’d have studied to be a Tidesage back home,” Jaina explained. “The Kirin Tor have been good t’ me, but I don’t care for how… what’s the word… constrained I feel.”

“Constrained by their rules?” Sylvanas guessed. 

“Expectations, more appropriately,” Jaina corrected. “First few months were a breeze. Just went to me lessons and studied on me own time. Then I became Antonidas’ apprentice and suddenly everyone wants a piece o’ me. Ye damned prince included! If they’re not askin’ for me hand they’re askin’ me what I’ll be doin’ as the next Archmage. Oh, but no pressure, ye know!”

“I can certainly understand that. Since birth, it was assumed I would be Ranger-General like my mother,” Sylvanas nodded. “Apparently she could feel it the moment she held me. I was under a great deal of pressure in my youth because of that. The Kirin Tor shouldn’t put so much on your shoulders so quickly. Youth is a fleeting thing that should be treasured.”

“Thank you!” Jaina said gratefully before taking a sip of wine. “Ye’d think with lifespans made longer by t’ Arcane, mages would learn to enjoy youth. Stars above, with how much pressure the Kirin Tor put me under, you’d think the bleedin’ world was endin’!” 

“Well I can assure you that you can always relax and forget about the world when you’re with me, Lady Proudmoore,” Sylvanas nodded, raising her glass. “To enjoying life.”

Jaina smiled and raised her glass. “T’ enjoyin’ life, Lady Windrunner.” 

Their goblets clinked and they drank.

* * *

Sylvanas and Jaina returned to Sunfury Spire later that evening, after a day of touring Silvermoon and the closer villages. They found a similar place to get lunch, and a clearing by the coastline to set up a fire and have some improvised Ranger food for dinner. Jaina had enjoyed the entire day, and by the end the two were arm-in-arm, laughing as they approached the befuddled Archmage and Prince.

Anevay and Nathanos were standing nearby, smirking as they watched how well the two were getting along.

“Ah, Sylvanas. You’ve finally decided to return,” Kael’thas pursed his lips in annoyance. “I was beginning to think you’d recruited Lady Proudmoore into your rangers as well.”

“Ooo, can I?” Jaina asked as she gave Sylvanas an excited look. “Sounds like an exciting line o’ work, I must say.” 

Kael blinked, the timbre of Jaina’s Kul Tiran accent resting strangely in his ears. “Eh… Lady Proudmoore? Are you alright?” 

“Aye, your Highness,” Jaina nodded with a very pleased smile. “Haven’ had fun like this since me papa took me to the Darkmoon Faire as a wee lass!” 

Antonidas arched a brow. “...Jaina have you been drinking?” 

“Just one cup o’ wine, Master,” Jaina assured him. “Barely felt it. I’ve had pints of rum stronger than that just to treat a cold.”

Anevay raised an eyebrow and glanced at Nathanos. Nathanos simply said “Kul Tiran” and a look of realization dawned on the young Ranger’s face and she nodded, giving the Ranger Lord a thumbs up.

“Yes don’t worry, I’ve kept her from chugging too much…” Sylvanas trailed off as her brow furrowed. “What was it called again?”

“Grog,” Jaina chuckled.

“Grog, yes! That!” Sylvanas chuckled.

“Why is she… speaking like that?” Kael’thas asked, looking perturbed.

“Speakin’ like what?” Jaina asked, looking incredulous.

“She’s Kul Tiran, Kael,” Sylvanas scoffed. “I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but Kul Tirans have a different dialect than us.”

“...Really?” Kael asked incredulously. “Lady Jaina, I… I don’t recall you ever speaking like that before.” 

“Because Lady Sylvanas ain’t one for bein’ stuffy and posh, your highness,” Jaina said matter of factly. “I can be meself around the ol’ gal.” 

Kael looked notably displeased by her response. Sylvanas only smirked wickedly at him.

Antonidas, meanwhile, simply shrugged. “As long as you’re not drunk, then,” he said as he beckoned for her to follow. “Come, we must be off.”

“O’course, Master,” Jaina nodded, slipping her arm out of Sylvanas’. 

Sylvanas let her go, but grasped her hand before she could slip away completely. “It was a pleasure escorting you around Silvermoon, Jaina,” she said, bringing the back of Jaina’s hand to her lips and kissing it softly. “Do come visit again, won’t you?”

“Oh, trust me, Sylvanas,” Jaina responded with a pleased grin and lidded gaze. “You’ll be sein’ me again very soon. Swear on me mum.” 

Sylvanas chuckled and released her hand. “I’ll look forward to it,” she said. She stood with her friends as she watched Jaina depart with Antonidas.

Anevay smirked up at her and nudged Sylvanas with her elbow. “Good for you, General.”

“I’m not sure what you mean, Captain,” Sylvanas said with the widest shit eating grin Anevay had ever seen. “I was simply showing our guest a good time.” 

Kael’s head whipped around to flash an incredulous and outraged look at Sylvanas. 

“Not like that, you perverse peacock!” Sylvanas huffed. 

“Yet,” Nathanos said under his breath.


	7. Running Towards Your Future

**Year 20 - The Fall of Silvermoon**

Sylvanas and Jaina had grown extremely close over the last year. Jaina visited frequently once she had mastered long-distance teleportation, and the two were practically inseparable. Sylvanas was practically a new woman. She was brighter, more chipper, and had a spring to her step that people had rarely seen. For Anevay and Nathanos, it was good to see their dear friend of fifteen years so happy. A year into their relationship, Jaina had surprised everyone by proposing to Sylvanas. A year wasn’t exactly long for elves, but for humans it was apparently long enough. Despite her initial misgivings, Sylvanas had happily agreed and it became the biggest gossip throughout Quel’thalas.

It turned out to be a good year for couples all around. Anya had become engaged to a Magister, and Velonara had agreed to marry a nobleman she’d been seeing for the last few years. Then Alina surprised Anevay with a proposal as well. It swiftly became a silly joke that the moment the Ranger-General had gotten engaged, all the Rangers in her service were being blessed with equal good fortune. It all seemed to good to be true for many of them.

And they were right.

Anevay and Velonara were in fact discussing their mutual wedding plans when word had come that Lordearon had fallen. Solid information was hard to come by, but the best anyone could figure out was that Prince Arthas had gone completely mad and massacred his own people before running off to Northrend. He’d returned with armor donned in skulls and a sword that practically whispered to everyone around them, murdered his father, and begun sowing discord throughout Lordearon. Evacuations had begun, with some fleeing to the southern Kingdoms of Stormwind. One person, however, had different plans.

Anevay joined Sylvanas in Windrunner Spire just in time to see Jaina teleport inside, looking completely distraught.

“Dalah’surfal,” Sylvanas greeted warmly, closing the distance between the two and pulling Jaina into a hug. “You seem troubled.” 

“Sylvanas,” Jaina whispered, clinging to her betrothed as if she would turn into dust should she let go. “You know why I’m here.” 

“And I know I must, once again, disappoint you,” Sylvanas said regrettably, bringing a hand up to stroke Jaina’s hair. Luckily the gesture was enough to pacify her lover somewhat. 

“Your King sanctioned a military escort to join the expedition,” Jaina said, her voice cracking despite her best efforts. “It’s not too late. You can still come with me.” 

“I cannot,” Sylvanas objected softly. “I am sorry, Jaina. But my place is in Quel’Thalas.” 

Jaina pulled away, though not completely. Just enough so that Sylvanas could see the glistening hurt in her ocean blue eyes. “Sylvanas, _please_ ,” she begged. “This is about more than the fall of Lordaeron! Everyone, all people, are in peril! If we sail west, we might have a chance!” 

“And if this world ending threat is as you say, then that would mean abandoning the people I have sworn to protect,” Sylvanas countered more firmly. “I could never forgive myself for such a thing, Jaina. You know this. I made an oath to defend Quel’Thalas to my dying breath and I meant it.”

“So is that what you intend to do then!?” Jaina asked, anger starting to rise in those tearful eyes as her grip tightened on the other woman’s arms. “Do you mean to die here as a martyr!? To leave me alone!?”

Sylvanas frowned at Jaina’s words, but her gentle ministrations did not grow any less kind. Instead, she put on that signature cocky smile and leaned forward to give Jaina a disarming kiss. “You worry too much, Dalah’surfal,” she whispered, happy to see that Jaina’s anger ebbed away slightly. “Our kingdom is protected by magics that snobby little prince could never understand. He will not take Quel’Thalas. I promise you.”

Jaina wanted to argue. She wanted to say that it was still too risky and that she needed to come west with her. Alas, the only evidence she had of such a claim was that of a nameless prophet who told her that the very fate of the world rested across the great sea. She knew that would not have been enough to convince Sylvanas. So she didn’t try.

“Do not worry about me Jaina,” Sylvanas insisted, reaching up to wipe away the tears that were streaming down her lover’s face. “Take the others. Sail west and seek out the destiny promised to you. Silvermoon will still be here when you get back. As will I. And we shall wed in the wake of our respective triumphs.” 

“...You promise?” Jaina asked through a choked sob. 

“You have my word,” Sylvanas crooned gently. 

“...And there will be children in our future?” Jaina pressed, a small smile gracing her otherwise distraught features. 

“A dozen, if you so desire,” Sylvanas vowed without missing a beat. 

“Okay…” Jaina nodded as Sylvanas wiped a few tears from her eyes. She pulled her in and kissed her fiercely before pulling away and turning for the portal. “I hope this isn’t goodbye.”

“I hope so too,” Sylvanas said softly. “Safe journeys, Dalah’surfal.” 

Jaina bristled slightly as she prepared to step back through the portal, but with a deep breath and a heavy sigh, she nodded. “Until we meet again, keeper of my heart.”

She stepped through and the portal closed. Sylvanas sighed as she stared at the spot on the wall where it had appeared, before turning to Anevay. “Begin patrols of the border. I want to know the instant that prince or his undead minions so much as look at Quel’thalas.

“Yes, General, Anevay nodded.

* * *

Anevay had two shortswords in her hands as she patrolled with two other Rangers. The patrols were dull, but the realization that the Undead were crawling all over their southern neighbours kept them on high alert. Strangely enough there was very little sound all around them. Not even the wildlife.

“I don’t like this,” she said, glancing around. “Did either of you hear from Drathir about the status of the wards?”

One of the Farstriders shook their head. “We hadn’t heard anything from him, Captain. It was our understanding that he would have spoken directly to you.”

Anevay’s brow furrowed. “That’s… strange,” she said, glancing back at the other rangers. “I’ve heard nothing from him all day. With the kingdom on high alert, I’d figure he-”

Anevay’s ears twitched. The faintest rustle was heard behind her. Reacting on instinct, she whirled around and brought her swords in a cross-shape to stop a bastard sword from cleaving down on her neck out of the bushes. The tip of the blade came centimeters from her face, and it made the very air grow cold.

She looked up at it’s wielder, and her eyes widened. Arthas Menethil had breached their borders without tripping the wards.

“RUN!” she yelled to the Rangers behind her. “ALERT SYLVANAS!”

“That’s right,” Arthas said, his voice as cold and hollow as death itself. _“Run.”_

It was then that Anevay heard something else. Something drawing closer. The other Rangers who were about to argue that they stay and fight caught the sight of ghouls. A massive writhing swarm of them running straight for them. 

“RUN!” Anevay ordered again, shoving Arthas off of her. “Alert Sylvanas! If you stay and fight, Quel’thalas dies!” She turned to usher them up the path, following after them. “Honor means nothing if you’re dead!”

The Rangers shared a look of conflict before they both nodded and dashed after their captain. They ran as fast as they could, the sound of ghouls hammering against the ground as they gave chase filling them with adrenaline.

“Captain!” One of the Rangers called out. “If they caught us unawares then… that must mean the wards have been compromised!”

“I know that!” Anevay yelled. “And with Drathir’s silence the whole day I bet I know how! I’m going to kill that mage if I get my hands on him!”

Anevay heard something from behind them. The distant but distinctive sounds of large mechanisms working somewhere beyond their line of sight. Artillery perhaps? She didn’t have long to wonder before she saw a mass arching high in the sky above them before landing practically at their feet, prompting them to skid to a halt. A mess of rotting corpses that appeared to be held together by twine hit the path before them with a wet, sickeningly loud crunch, splattering gore everywhere. 

Their siege weapons were firing bodies as projectiles. Anevay had to resist the urge to vomit as she pushed the Rangers to step over the corpses and keep running. This was vile! This was horrid! This…

This was the end, wasn’t it?

* * *

Anevay burst into Windrunner Spire, breathing heavily and completely out of it. “SYLVANAS!” She screamed at the top of her voice. “SYLVANAS! THE WARDS HAVE BEEN BREACHED! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”

Her words echoed throughout the entire spire for a moment before Anevay heard the sound of encroaching footsteps. Before she knew it, Sylvanas rushed in from the doorway with an incredulous look on her face. 

“WHAT!?” 

“The wards have been breached!” Anevay repeated. “Foul play, maybe, but the Undead are advancing into our lands!” 

Sylvanas’ expression shifted from shock and confusion to abject horror. Swiftly after, it was replaced by one of sheer determination and growing anger. “Then we will drive the foul creatures back,” she responded coldly and pulling her longbow from the holster on her back. “What can you tell me of their forces?”

“They’re flinging corpses out of catapults,” Anevay explained as they both ran down the hill. “And Menethil’s blade is a special kind of hell.” She held up her hand, where her wrist had been nicked by the blade during their retreat. A small, black frostburn adorned her skin. “I’d keep him at a distance if I were you.”

Sylvanas nodded in understanding as they sprinted down the way. “That butcher will not see his death coming,” Sylvanas sneered as she felt a slight twitch in her fingers. The kind of twitch that said she was itching to let loose some arrows. 

“I fear we might have been betrayed,” Anevay said, turning a worried look to Sylvanas. “Drathir’s been silent all day and they didn’t trip the wards. That can’t be a coincidence.”

“Certainly not,” Sylvanas agreed. “We’ll have to send a runner to Silvermoon to alert them of the situation!”

“I’ll have Velonara out within the hour, I promise,” Anevay nodded as the two of them parted ways. Sylvanas to the outer gate, Anevay to the Farstrider grounds to rally reinforcements and send out a runner. Only a few moments into the battle and it was already a disaster.

* * *

The entire military had pulled back to Fairbreeze after the final elfgate had fallen and fortified. The Scourge had been held at bay for as long as possible, and they were struggling to break the fortifications on the village, but time was ticking. Every runner sent to Silvermoon hadn’t reported back, and it was starting to sink in that this was going to be their final stand. Civilians had been fleeing with every push back, and thankfully the evacuation lines were still safe and didn’t need a guard, which meant they didn’t have to splinter their forces. This was a small blessing, as the Scourge was seemingly endless.

“It just doesn’t stop!” Anevay yelled out over the sounds of ghouls scraping at the walls, loosing a few arrows into Arthas’ horse. “It’s like a sea of bodies!"

Sylvanas snarled as she continued to send arrows flying decisively into the skulls of Scourge warriors. They had attempted to mitigate the undead’s advantage of raising their fallen warriors by way of fire. Flame spells by their magisters and lighting their ballista projectiles alit helped level the playing field, but it wasn’t long before Arthas realized their strategy and took measures to counteract it. Mages were sought out and destroyed and further inspection revealed that their projectiles were not alite. 

“General!” Kalira called back. “We’re out of usable oil! We cannot burn the bodies!”

Dammit. 

Sylvanas looked out among the sea of dead that was washing over her homeland like a swarm of locusts. She was out of ideas. She was out of tricks. Every single method she might have had for keeping the Scourge at bay was nothing more than burning kindling at her feet. Between Dar’Khan’s betrayal and the sheer numbers that Arthas commanded proved insurmountable.

“...Then we save everyone we can,” she said. “Prepare to hunker down. This is no longer a battle we can win. We must hold them off long enough for as many people to escape as possible. We’re going to die here.”

Sylvanas’ words were sobering to the other rangers. Over the course of this battle, their hopes for victory withered and eroded like the blighted ground the Scourge left in their wake. Alas, it was the confirmation from their general that finally, officially, killed that hope dead. None of the rangers had any immediate response to that. For a while the only sounds were the battering of animate corpses against their fortifications and the arrows flying purposefully through the air. The first to say anything was Anevay.

“...I will proudly die fighting by your side, General,” she said firmly, not taking her eyes off her targets. 

A beat passed. 

“...Not you, Ranger-Captain,” Sylvanas said, turning to face Anevay. “I need you to safeguard the last of the civilians. 

Anevay’s head whipped around. “What!?”

“Arthas has been targeting our runners, which suggests that he has air support,” Sylvanas explained. “If he can get them, he can get a large mass of defenseless people. I need you to protect them the rest of the way.”

“General, the civilians have been making it to the ships all day!” Anevay protested, jumping down from her perch and to Sylvanas’ side. “Arthas isn’t even bothering with them. He’s focused on Silvermoon. We haven’t had a guard for the evacuation since this battle started. Why now?”

“I am beyond taking chances,” Sylvanas countered. “One Ranger won’t turn the tide of this battle, but it can make sure no other innocents lose their lives. You have to hurry. Go.” 

Anevay opened her mouth to continue protesting before Sylvanas interjected. 

_“That’s an order, Darkflare!”_

Anevay’s eyes were wide. She was frozen in shock. Sylvanas couldn’t have been ordering her away from the battle. She just couldn’t be! She couldn’t possibly leave the woman who had saved her life and taken her from what would have been the worst hell possible. She couldn’t be asking her to accept her death. After losing so many already.

She stepped forward and wrapped Sylvanas in a tight hug, tears welling up in her eyes. “Goodbye, Sylvanas,” she whispered. “Send him to hell.”

“I will,” Sylvanas said, returning the hug. It was highly likely that she was lying to Anevay when she said that, but she had lied to her already. This wasn’t just about saving the civilians. It was about saving her. It was about making sure at least one ranger that she trained lived to see the end of this. A ranger that had come to be a dear friend to her.

“Hurry,” Sylvanas urged her, pulling away from the other woman. “Our people need you.” 

Anevay nodded and turned to run out the rear gate to join the civilians evacuating Quel’thalas. Sylvanas sighed and turned her gaze back to the swarm of ghouls at their doorstep. As she nocked another arrow, Lyana turned to her. “Why Anevay?” she asked. “Out of all of us, she would have gladly fought with you to the end.”

“I know,” Sylvanas said with a nod as she let loose another arrow. “...But she deserves better than that.”

_‘Remember. You’re not running from anything. You’re running_ **_towards_ ** _something. You’re running towards your future. Run, Anevay. It’s waiting for you.’_

* * *

Anevay reached the top of the hill, beckoning for the civilians to follow her. The harbor was just a half a mile, and the last group of civilians were almost there. Most of them wouldn’t make it. There simply weren’t enough ships. She didn’t want to accept that and tried to cram more onto the boats, but eventually was forced to accept Silvermoon’s fate. As she shepherded the last group down the hill, she turned her gaze back toward Silvermoon. From here, she could see the battered and war-torn battlefield at Fairbreeze. She could see Sylvanas.

Alone.

Anevay stopped as the civilians ran past her and watched Sylvanas draw two warblades and meet Arthas. Looking through the spyglass that Nathanos had given her, she could see that she was wounded, exhausted, and angry. Meanwhile, Arthas has approached from behind his army to directly confront Sylvanas for the first time. While the General was battered to an inch of her life, Arthas had barely exerted himself and simply let his rotting soldiers do his fighting for him.

_‘That spineless coward,’_ Anevay cursed to herself. 

Lowering the spyglass, she watched as Sylvanas charged to meet Arthas, but in her exhaustion Arthas had slipped right through her guard and impaled her through the chest. Anevay’s heart sank. She knew this was a likely outcome, but seeing it with her own eyes was too much.

If only that was the end of it.

Her eyes then widened and she put her spyglass back to her eye. Something caught her attention. Something that needed closer inspection. Sylvanas’ eyes and mouth were emitting an eerie white smoke before she appeared above her own body, twisting and writhing in agony. She let out a piercing, blood-curdling shriek, and Anevay dropped the spyglass to clap her hands over her ears. That scream. That horrible scream! It was like terror itself had been sharpened into knives! It clawed at Anevay’s ears as she fell to her knees. She couldn’t even imagine the pain Sylvanas’ spirit must have been feeling to let out such a shriek. It made her want to cut her own throat just to make it stop.

Despite herself, she turned her eyes up and watched Sylvanas’ spirit contort and twist in agony, all the while Arthas looked practically pleased with himself. He hadn’t just killed her. He hadn’t just raised her like the other Rangers. He was delighting in torturing the woman who had held him at bay for so long. He took some sick thrill in tormenting the one who gave him and his Scourge even a modicum of a challenge. As if it were some sort of heinous crime.

The screaming eventually died down as Arthas took full control of Sylvanas and made her hover beside him as he marched for the gates. Anevay took her hands from her ears, noticing how they were covered in blood. What she had just seen was practically burned into her memory. She slowly turned to the few civilians who had stumbled at Sylvanas’ shriek, fear etched onto her face.

“The docks! Run for the docks!” she yelled, stumbling to her feet and starting to run down the hill. “Run! **_RUN!_ **”

Some followed her commands without a word of protest or complaint. Some were too frozen with fear to move before Anevay pulled them back to their feet and practically shoved them down the hill. The Ranger was terrified of what was encroaching on Silvermoon, but she wouldn’t let that stop her from carrying out Sylvanas’ final order to her. She was going to get as many civilians as she could to safety. She owed her freshly fallen general that much. As they sprinted toward the harbor, Anevay cast a glance back toward Silvermoon. She couldn’t see it now that she was down from the hill, but all she could think about was the carnage that was about to unfold. If it was anything like the carnage she had just witnessed, she would count it as a small blessing that she wasn’t there to experience it.

They boarded the last ship just as ghouls appeared on the hilltop. Anevay’s pupils shrank and she ran to help the crew lift the anchor and get the ship moving as quickly as possible. The ship pulled away just as the ghouls were making their way onto the harbor.

“Where to, Ranger-Captain?” the elf at the helm asked, glancing back with relief at the ghouls.

“Northwest,” Anevay breathed as she fell back against the rail. “The ships are scattering and will meet on an island in the Northwest.”

“Yes ma’am,” the helmsmen said, already adjusting their trajectory. 

Anevay’s breath was ragged and uneven to match how her heart was hammering against her ribs. Her gaze was unfocused and hazy as she fought to gain some semblance of control of herself. When a sliver of her usual composure returned, she turned her attention to the rest of the ship. It was quite nearly at maximum capacity. It looked as though if too many people tilted the wrong way, the boat might topple over. Everyone was huddled close together with barely an inch of space between them. Such a sight was unfortunate enough.

But their faces? Their faces were heartbreaking. 

There was not a single man woman or child that didn’t look some variation of terrified, crestfallen, distraught or any mixture of the three. Some were holding their children close, trying to shush their cries without breaking down into tears themselves. Some aboard weeped over the loss of their homes. Others weeped for the loved ones who died defending against the unrelenting Scourge that was currently knocking down the gates of Silvermoon. There was not a face among them that didn’t appear to be completely devoid of hope. 

Anevay stood up on legs that were quivering so badly she didn’t even think she could walk. But she did. She made her way to the front of the ship and stared out over the water as the mainland became smaller and smaller in the distance.

“Is there any word from the Prince?” a woman on her right asked.

“None yet,” Anevay shook her head. “He was in Dalaran when the assault came. It might be a while before we hear from him.”

“What will become of King Anasterian?” she asked.

“Probably the same thing as most of the rangers,” Anevay said quietly. “Until we can get ahold of the Prince, the highest ranking person we have is in command. Lor’themar if he survived. The Ranger Lords if he didn’t.”

The woman beside her began to tremble. Hard. “...Anar’alah. This really is the end, isn’t it?”

“I don’t know,” Anevay said, continuing to stare out at the ocean.

* * *

They had reached the island, along with several other ships. A temporary settlement was being constructed with the evacuation resources. Tents, fires, anglers on the boats to catch fish to feed everyone. For the moment their survival was in less jeopardy than they’d originally thought. The Prince and Lor’themar hadn’t yet arrived, or given word they had lived. The Ranger Lords had been killed, but Theron himself was still a grey area. Still waiting on ships to arrive, leadership had fallen to Anevay by default. She was distracted from her thoughts, her entire mind still barely comprehending what was going on, by the sound of a ship approaching. As she stepped onto the deck of one of their own, she saw the Kul Tiran flagship approaching.

“What in the…” she whispered as she lifted a signal flag to wave them down. She wasn’t sure why the Kul Tirans were here, but they were a welcome sight.

The flagship saw the signal and adjusted course. Within moments they were docked upon the island. Anevay rushed to meet them, seeing a contingent of heavily armed guards descend the docking ramp before parting to make way for the man immediately behind them. An older human dressed to the nines in a high ranking military uniform and a thick, burly mustache that joined with his mutton chops.

“Daelin Proudmoore?” Anevay balked as she approached. “You’re a sight for sore eyes, but what are you doing here?”

“Here to lend our aid of course,” Daelin replied, a dour expression on his face. “But from the looks of it, we have arrived too late.” 

Anevay nodded mournfully. “Quel’thalas has fallen. The Ranger-General is dead, and the King may be joining her very soon,” she sighed as she cast her eyes back toward Quel’thalas.

Daelin followed her gaze to the mainland, watching as smoke poured from within Silvermoon just over the horizon. The hand that rested on the Lord Admiral’s cutlass tightened with anger. “...Arthas,” he sneered. “I always knew that boy was trouble, but to throw in his lot with the undead.”

Anevay nodded, staring back into the distance and wondering what was happening to Sylvanas right now. Wondering what happened to _Alina_. Two people she loved more than anything, one of them was enslaved and the other was missing in action.

“What’s that?” Daelin asked, a rough finger brushing over the frostburn on her wrist.

Anevay glanced down and sighed. “Took a graze from Arthas’ blade early in the fight. Not sure how bad it is, honestly. I think it’s just a scar.”

“That wound is far from natural,” Daelin remarked with a grimace. “It looks like the kind of thing you’d see in Drustavar.” He glanced back at the Flagship where the majority of his crew were busy bringing down supplies for the elven survivors. Food, blankets, fresh water and the likes. “I have some healers aboard my ship if you want to have it looked at.”

“Sure, but get to everyone else first,” Anevay nodded.

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen Jaina, have you?” Daelin asked with a grimace. He was clearly dreading this question.

“She was in Quel’thalas before the siege,” Anevay explained. “Tried to convince Sylvanas to go into the west with her. Apparently she’s taking the refugees from Lordaeron out to Kalimdor.”

Daelin was torn between sighing with relief and feeling even more worried. On one hand, he knew she didn’t perish here or in Lordaeron. On the other hand, he didn’t know exactly where she was or if she was safe. “Confound that girl,” he cursed lightly. “Always doing what she thinks is right at her own peril.” The dour expression returned to his face as he looked back at Anevay. “And… my condolences to the loss of your General. I know my daughter thought the world of her. I was genuinely looking forward to welcoming her into the family.”

Anevay nodded, feeling the sting of tears in her eyes. She’d avoided thinking too much about Sylvanas while setting up camp, but hearing mention of her death from another made it unavoidable. “I thought the world of her too, Lord Admiral,” she said quietly.

Daelin appeared even more crestfallen as he saw Anevay’s eyes begin to glisten with unshed tears. “Oh lass,” he moued, placing a hand on his shoulder. “Ye look exhausted. Why don’t you go get some rest? My men and I can take things from here.” 

Anevay turned her gaze back to Daelin, tempted to say something in protest. But her aching body and broken heart made it impossible to summon the energy to do so. “Okay… I think there’s a tent somewhere I can sleep in. Thank you, Lord Admiral,” she said quietly. “If… if you hear anything from the other ships coming in, could you ask about Alina Dawnblossom? She’s my betrothed, and I haven’t seen her since the siege started.”

“Of course,” Daelin nodded. “If I hear word of her, you will be the first to know.”

“Thank you,” Anevay gave a weak, insincere smile before turning and heading for an empty tent. She was completely and totally exhausted, and wanted so desperately to fall asleep and stop feeling _anything_ for a while.

* * *

Anevay awoke four hours later to the sound of a commotion outside. She grumbled and pulled herself off the leaves and hauled herself out of the tent to see Lor’themar arguing with Daelin Proudmoore about… she was still half-asleep and couldn’t tell, actually.

“Wusgoin on?” she mumbled as she stumbled out of her tent.

Lor’themar turned to look at Anevay, his eyes widening in surprise. Well, _one_ eye widened while the other was covered in bandages. 

“Darkflare!? You’re not dead!?”

“No,” Anevay rubbed her eyes and stood up straight. “I was ordered to escort the evacuees. Is Alina with you?” It was the first thought on her mind as she returned to full consciousness.

“Alina? ...No. No she isn’t. I’m sorry.” Lor’themar said, his expression growing solemn. “We haven’t seen her since she fell back from Tranquilien.”

Anevay’s face fell and she felt like her heart was about to shatter into pieces. Tranquilien had fallen so quickly and so suddenly that the retreat from the village had been an utter failure. None of the Rangers there had survived. There was no doubt about it now. Alina was dead. She slowly sat down on an upturned log and stared at the floor, tears welling up in her eyes. “Oh…” she said quietly, before burying her face into her hands and breaking down in tears.

“Oh lass,” Daelin whispered, his tone absolutely heartbroken. He walked over to place a hand on Anevay’s shoulder to steady her as she continued to weep. He had seen this kind of grief before. One often did when it came to war, and it never got easier to see, much less live through. 

“I’ve lost them both,” Anevay cried into her hands. “I’ve lost everyone. The last I saw of any of them was watching Sylvanas be turned into that… _thing_!”

Daelin’s brow furrowed. “Thing?”

“Sylvanas didn’t just die,” Lor’themar confirmed. “Arthas raised her as some spectral beast and turned her against the people of Silvermoon. Survivors witnessed a violent spirit in the likeness of the Ranger General tearing through soldiers and civilians alike. 

The Lord Admiral looked as though he was about to puke. Even thinking about something like that filled him with absolute disgust and contempt. “...That bastard,” he cursed. “He has to be stopped.” 

“What would you have us do, Lord Admiral!?” Lor’themar demanded. “Our forces have been all but wiped out, at least half of our civilian population is dead and all that’s left just can barely stand after what just happened at Quel’Danas! We aren’t capable of doing anything! We can’t even flee from this island right now!”

“Wait, what? What happened at Quel’Danas?” Anevay asked, wiping furiously at her watery eyes as she looked between Daelin and Lor’themar. “What’s going on, Lor’themar?”

“Do you not feel it Darkflare?” Lor’themar asked, bewildered when the other elf just continued looking confused. “The Sunwell is gone!” 

Anevay’s eyes widened. “What!?”

“Arthas was after the Sunwell,” the Ranger Lord continued. “He used its power to raise… something from the dead. Prince Kael’thas arrived to see the source of our immortal power poisoned. It would have killed us all if nothing was done. And so… he destroyed it.”

Anevay’s jaw dropped. The Sunwell? Destroyed? That could only mean doom for their people. Most of them, at the very least. Most of the refugees were from Silvermoon City, the nobility and people who worked closer to Quel’Danas than most. They were reliant on the Sunwell. The Rangers less so, but… that must have been the sudden lethargy she’d felt as they were setting up camp, she realized.

“I guess I have felt it, but I thought it was just exhaustion. We’ve been fighting for days,” Anevay sighed as she wiped her eyes. “Sylvanas is gone, the Sunwell is gone, the King is dead… are we doomed?” she asked, looking up at Lor’themar.

“I don’t know,” Lor’themar shook his head with exasperation. “I haven’t heard from the Prince since Quel’Danas. I just… I need time to think.”

“Ranger Lord, Kul Tiras can offer your people Sanctuary,” Daelin offered. “We can help your people get back on their feet.” 

“And I told you that is not my decision to make, Proudmoore!” Lor’themar huffed angrily. “And I can’t move these people to a secondary location without knowing whether or not they’re going to die on the way there!”

The two of them continued to go back and forth, which did not help the storm in Anevay’s mind. So much had happened in just the span of a few days that her head was throbbing excruciatingly just to try and keep track of it all. Everything seemed to hurt all of a sudden. They had all lost so much; Anevay herself suddenly became aware of what she lost when her eyes fell upon the ring that rested snuggly on her finger. Once a cheerful omen of the future to come, now a reminder of the woman who she loved, only to lose her.

She bristled, biting on her lip hard enough to draw blood. No. Not yet. She couldn’t fall apart just yet. There would be time to grieve for her Dawnblossom… hopefully. She had to focus on the here and now. She had to retake some semblance of control if she had any hope to properly mourn her lost beloved. 

Here and now. _Here and now._

“Theron!” Anevay said, conjuring enough incentive to stand up and regain her composure. “There’s no need to bark at the man! He only came here to help, and find his daughter!”

“Well his daughter isn’t here!” Lor’themar countered sharply. “And if that’s the only reason he came here to help, then he will just likely be on my merry way.” 

“The fact that you think me so cruel, Regent Lord, is a testament to the infamous elitism your people have been known for,” Daelin huffed. “You can learn a thing or two from Lady Darkflare here.”

Lor’themar had nothing to say to that. He didn’t have the energy to continue arguing, His one good eye barely held a glow to it.

I will certainly have a word with your prince about this mess,” Daelin continued. “In the meantime, I will help your people as best I can.”

“Thank you,” Anevay nodded, laying a hand on Daelin’s shoulder. “Don’t mind Lor’themar. I was close enough to the Ranger-General that I can go over him. And I know a Ranger Lord in Lordaeron that, if he’s still alive, I know would back me up on anything. Feel free to help however you like, and know that Quel’thalas is in your debt, Lord Admiral.”

“Think nothing of it, Lady Darkflare,” Daelin said, offering the elf a slight smile. “We are all in this together now. I simply wish there was more I could have done to help you.”

“Thank you. And by the way, Lady isn’t my title,” Anevay gave a weak smile. “I gave up any claim to nobility a long time ago. I’m just a ranger.”

“Fair enough,” Daelin nodded as he took a step away towards the shore. “I will check my ship to see if there’s anything else I can offer. I’ll be back soon and…” His expression fell again. “I am sorry. To hear about your betrothed.” 

“Thank you,” Anevay said quietly. “To lose her is bad enough. Losing her _and_ my best friend… it’s going to be hard to get used to. I’m glad you won’t have to lose your daughter, at least. I like Jaina. She’s a good kid.”

“She is,” Daelin said with a smile. “I will likely be high tailing it across the Great Sea to go after her once all this is done.” A beat of silence passed between them before he added. “...You are welcome to join me, if you think you’re up for it.”

“I might, _if_ things are stable here. I won’t leave only to come back to find the Scourge has wiped out the last of-” she stopped when something in her tent flashed. She turned in confusion, only for a memory to swiftly follow realization. 

> _“I am about to depart for the border patrol, General,” Anevay told Sylvanas as she stood at the doorway. “Is there anything else you need of me before I go?”_
> 
> _“There is in fact,” Sylvanas said, clearing the distance between the both of them in a few easy steps. When she was but a pace away, she pulled out an envelope and handed it to her. “Keep this on you.”_
> 
> _Anevay nodded and accepted the envelope. Upon further inspection, she saw that it wasn’t addressed to anyone, but she could sense a considerable arcane signature coming from within. “...Who am I delivering this to?” she asked._
> 
> _“No one,” Sylvanas said, shaking her head. “This is one of two enchanted letters that Jaina and I share. It allows us to keep a correspondence wherever we are without delay.”_
> 
> _“Oh I see,” Anevay said, smiling at the romanticism of it all. “But… why are you giving it to me?”_
> 
> _“Because you’re the one person I trust above all others to keep it safe,” Sylvanas said with a smile. “And because I need to focus on my duties and if I keep that with me I’m just going to keep checking it every five minutes.”_
> 
> _Anevay laughed at that. “In that case, I will be sure to protect this envelope from anything. Even you.”_
> 
> _“I know you will.”_

Anevay’s mind snapped back to the present, clarity dawning on her face as she realized what the flashing was. “Wait!” she exclaimed, rushing to the tent on tired legs. She pulled the envelope out of her satchel and saw that there was a letter inside.

Pulling it out, she ran back to Daelin with a weak smile. “Jaina and Sylvanas were sending each other letters with magic,” she explained. “I think she just sent one.”

She unfurled it and began to read.

> _Sylvanas,_
> 
> _I hope this letter reaches you in good health. I pray the worst hasn’t happened and that you will be there when I can return._
> 
> _My people have made landfall on Kalimdor and begun constructing a settlement. It was difficult at first, but we made two unlikely allies in this strange land. The Night Elves, who were hostile at first, are a race of priests and archers who call the forests home. They remind me of Quel’Thalas, honestly. Their leader, Lady Whisperwind, reminds me of you. They had thought we were desecrating their forests when we arrived, but we eventually smoothed things over. They’ve been providing us with lumber in exchange for fish, which we thankfully have an abundance of._
> 
> _More curious is the Horde. The Orcs from the internment camps fled to Kalimdor as well, but they were surprisingly friendly. Well… most of them were friendly. Their new Warchief is having trouble keeping one clan leader under control, but so far the Orcs have been rather calm. They’re not alone, either. Island Trolls and a race called Tauren have joined their ranks as well. Perhaps these new allies are why they’ve become less violent? I’m not certain. The Tauren know the Night Elves, so that smoothed things over between them._
> 
> _Out of everything here, the Horde being friendly was the last thing I expected. They do Shamanism now. Can you believe that?_ _At the very least, we have allies and will soon have something close to a settlement. Please be there when I can have ships built. If anything happened to you… No! Not going to think about that!_
> 
> _Tell my father I’m alright. I know I should have at least said goodbye before I left, but I know he would have demanded that I not go. I had to take the chance. I imagine he will be quite shocked when he learns I have made allies of the orcs. Do you think he and the Warchief would get along?_
> 
> _With all of my love_
> 
> _\- Jaina Proudmoore_

Anevay finished the letter and rolled it up, looking up at Daelin with a weak smile. “Well, I guess she’s safe. For the most part.”

Daelin’s eyes were wide with confusion, shock and no shortage of worry. It looked as though he was having difficulty processing what Anevay just read aloud, or at least difficulty accepting that what was written wasn’t a joke.

“I…” he paused, his eyes drifting back to the docked flagship. “I have to go find her.”

Anevay’s brow furrowed. “But… Lord Admiral, she just said that she was safe and had allies to back her up,” Anevay repeated. “At the very least we know she isn’t in any danger.”

“Allies!?” Daelin balked. “Darkflare, you read that letter! There are orcs on Kalimdor! You think she is safe when those beasts are there!? Do you not remember the second war!?”

“Yes I remember the Second War, Lord Admiral,” Anevay said, only slightly irritated that she was even being asked that. “But I also trust Jaina. If she says the Orcs are friendly, then I believe her. And after what just happened in Lordaeron and Quel’thalas, I don’t blame her from taking unlikely friends. Look, Jaina isn’t stupid. She’s not just going to let her guard down long enough to get an axe in her back. You really think she’s completely one-hundred-percent trusting over there?”

Daelin’s face contorted with conflict as he inwardly struggled over what to do. His jaw clenched as options and worries turned over in his head. Anevay could see that he was really at war with himself. 

“...I will stay here and help your kin as best as I can,” he said. “But after that I really must go find her.

Anevay nodded as she looked down at the envelope in her hands. With Sylvanas dead, she wasn’t going to be sending any more letters back to Jaina. She felt she should write to her to tell her what has happened. Then she looked up at Daelin and frowned. He was troubled. Worried. Of course he was. His daughter was in a strange land with Orcs at her doorstep. “I’ll write to Jaina and tell her what’s happened,” she said quietly. “After that, the envelope is yours to contact her with.”

Daelin’s eyes widened with surprise at that, but as he overcame the bemusement, he nodded. “That would be appreciated,” he said. “But if this is an attempt to stop me from sailing after her, I am afraid it won’t work.” 

“I think being able to write to her yourself would put your mind at east. It’s the least I can do for all your help,” Anevay said, laying a hand on Daelin’s shoulder. “I don’t like the idea of her allying with Orcs either, but for the time being none of us can do anything about it. It’ll take weeks to get across the ocean even if you left right now.”

Daelin frowned at that, the storm of conflict still raging in his sea grey eyes. Nevertheless, he nodded in concession once again. “You make a fair point, lass,” he admitted. 

Anevay sighed in relief. “I’m glad you could see it that way,” she said. “I’ll write to Jaina as soon as possible, and then the envelope is yours.” She needed anything to keep her mind occupied. Even if it was writing a commiseration letter to be sent across the ocean.

Anything was better than letting her mind quiet for even a second.


	8. No Respect for the Dead

**Year 20 - Seven Months After The Fall**

Quel’Thalas had seen better days.

After their forces had been gathered, a joint effort was made between the remaining troops. Half of them went with Kael’thas to combat the Undead along with the Alliance, while the other half committed themselves to retaking Quel’Thalas. The Kul Tiras fleet had sailed off to find Jaina, but in gratitude for all Anevay had done to put his mind at ease the Lord Admiral had left behind two frigates to aid in retaking their homeland. It had been a struggle, and the battle was far from over, but the ruins of Silvermoon had at the very least been claimed. It was only once their people were something close to stable that time and resources could be spent mourning the fallen. A memorial to Sylvanas had been built in her now deserted home and warded against the Undead. Banshees were floating around the spire when they went to erect the monument, but they had thankfully left them alone.

Anevay had put in the effort to erect cenotaphs for each of the fallen rangers, littered all around the spire. The rangers that had been with her in Sylvanas’ inner circle had their graves lined outside the spire. There were no bodies to burn or bury, and elves typically didn’t have headstones, but Anevay was determined to do it anyway. As she finished the last one, Alina’s, and set it into the ground, she couldn’t help but linger. Of course she couldn’t help it. She’d delayed setting Alina’s grave for weeks. It felt like too much. It was too final. As if there was some small hope that Alina would come back to her that would be naught but dust the moment she buried the base.

Her fingers brushed over Alina’s name, painstakingly carved into steel over several hours, and a fresh wave of tears burned in her eyes. The sound of her own pitiful, barely contained sobs were drowned out only by the echo of a Banshee’s wail that continued to ring in her ears. A part of her wondered if she would have been better off as a Banshee, who could turn their pain into power instead of just weeping impotently over what they lost. A larger part of her wondered why she wasn’t a Banshee. Why she wasn’t among her sister rangers in death. 

“Why?” she asked, turning her blurry, tear laden gaze to the Spire. She knew that the person she was asking that question couldn’t possibly hear her, but her mind left reasoning far behind at this point. That Spire, and what it represented, was the only thing she could direct her despair unto. “Why did you tell me to go? Those civilians would have made it to the docks just fine without me. Why did I have to be the one to go? Why was I the only one to make it!?”

Her questions were only met with silence. She knew there was no one to answer her, and yet the continued silence only made her angrier.

She rose from the foot of Alina’s headstone and scowled at the Spire. “You, the others, you all were all I had! You took me in when I was at my lowest! You saved me from a life of misery and fear! You gave me purpose and direction! I found love because of you! The Farstriders were everything to me! It was all I had and you ordered me to give it up!?” 

Her hands balled into white knuckled fists. She wanted to hit something. She wanted to tear something asunder with her bare hands. Alas, she was currently surrounded by things she wouldn’t dare cause any harm, even if they couldn’t feel it. And so, she continued to scream. To rave. To demand answers to her question from thin air.

“Why!? Why couldn’t you let me join you!? Do you not realize I’m all alone now!? I have no one now! What am I supposed to do now!? How can I go on like this without _any_ of you!? What’s the point of surviving when all I want to do now is die!?”

More intolerable silence.

She stormed off toward the edge of what had become to be called the “Ghostlands.” The edge of Quel’Thalas. The border to Lordaeron. Now a stronghold of the Scourge.

She didn’t know why she was going to the very edge of their own territory, only that she desperately wanted to be anywhere but where these painful memories were. Maybe she was looking for death? Maybe she was looking for revenge? It was hard to say. Her mind was a haze of conflicting thoughts, but all she knew was “go.” As she reached the border, the Rangers standing guard at the outpost looked at her in confusion.

“Uh… Captain Darkflare? What are you doing?”

“Don’t know,” Anevay said coldly, storming past the outpost. She stopped to leave her bow against the outpost wall. It was useless with her quiver empty.

The Rangers looked at one another nervously. Seeing Anevay suddenly walk into uncharted territory without her bow was alarming to say the least. 

“Captain Darkflare!” one of them called out. “You’re walking unarmed into enemy territory!”

“I’m not unarmed!” Anevay spat. It was true. On her back were two warblades she had picked up from a tulip field when they retook Silvermoon. The same warblades Sylvanas had drawn when she stood alone against Arthas. Over the last few months she had been using them more and more, and drawing her bow less and less. A few of the rangers had made the remark that she had begun fighting more like an Orc these days, becoming more and more bloodthirsty the more they fought against the Scourge.

The rangers did not look any less uneasy at Anevay’s frustrated assurance. Certainly she was skilled and equipped to face danger, but it felt wrong not to accompany her. 

Nevertheless. They had their orders.

Anevay stormed out past the remains of the outer gate and into what was now called the Plaguelands. An area teeming with the Scourge and the few Alliance organizations that still had a presence here, including the deranged Scarlet Crusade. She immediately drew her warblade as Ghouls trickled out of the forests, carving through rotting flesh the moment it was in range. Only a few had scampered out to meet her, much to her disappointment. She stepped over their bodies and ventured deeper. Lordaeron was a massive place. There had to be a fight somewhere that could settle her misery. Her hopes raised when she saw an abomination stumbling towards her, but one strike down an unsuspecting line of stitches caused the entire beast to unravel and die on the ground. 

“Belore _dammit!_ ” she snarled. This was the Scourge that ransacked her home. That ushered in the demise of two kingdoms. Why were they suddenly pathetic? She pointed an ichor soaked warblade to the sky and cried out, “Is there no one here that can grant me death!?”

A wisp of dark mist suddenly shot past her face, coming dangerously close to tearing off her nose before striking a nearby tree. Anevay turned back to see an arrow sticking out of the tree. Its head was smoking and the point it made contact had started to rapidly rot the wood. Dark Rangers. Farstriders who’d been raised into Undeath. They’d been scarce in Quel’Thalas, but dangerous. She turned to follow the arrow’s trajectory, but couldn’t see the ranger.

“Well come on then!” she called out to the trees. “Are you going to fight me or not?!”

Another arrow fire just shy of Anevay, whizzing past her ear before vanishing out of sight in the mists that surrounded her. 

“Oh for fuck sake!” Anevay cursed. “You can’t even aim worth a damn, can you!?” 

_“So impatient,”_ the ranger whispered, a haunting echo in their voice making the source nigh impossible to track.

“Don’t taunt me! Either get out here and fight me or hit your damn mark you pathetic wretch!” Anevay yelled, looking around for the source of the whispering.

The whispers didn’t answer back. For a moment, everything was deathly silent. Anevay’s gaze kept darting all around trying to anticipate the next attack when she could a shape emerging from the mists. The silhouette that approached very much resembled a Farstrider. She couldn’t make out any details, just two glowing red eyes that leered at her

“Finally decided to come out of the trees, huh?” Anevay said, stepping forward to meet the ranger and flourishing her warblade. “Couldn’t get a clear shot?”

“Have you no respect for the dead, welp?” the Dark Ranger continued to taunt as she matched Anevays’ steps with her own. “You wander into Scourge territory, slay our minions and demand to be killed? How rude.”

“As if your Master has any respect for the dead!” Anevay snarled. She drew the other warblade, ready in case another shot was fired. “If I have to carve through his entire army, then I will! Either I’ll die or _he will_!”

The Dark Ranger was quiet for a moment, her dark eyes narrowing at Anevay from behind the shadow of her drawn hood. Suddenly, the bow she was holding was holstered onto her back as her free hand then drew a jagged sabre that was sheathed on her hip. _“Very well. If you insist,”_ the unholy voice said as the Dark Ranger stepped out fully from the mists to reveal herself.

Anevay’s eyes widened, and her battle stance wavered as she realized who she was looking at.

Sylvanas.

It was actually her. She appeared completely different than how Anevay remembered her, but she was still unmistakable. Her skin was greyed out and sunken, her eyes glowed a piercing red. She wore a grisly echo of the armor she’d worn as Ranger-General, albeit with the plackart missing. The scar from where she’d been impaled by Frostmourne was visible in the gap made in her armor. Anevay took a step back, her glare having fallen. Now she was just… scared and mournful. “...General?” she whispered. “Is that you?”

“Your General is dead,” Sylvanas replied coldly as she flourished her sabre at Anevay. “She was weak and she perished to the Scourge.”

Anevay’s brow furrowed slightly. “You’re wrong. She held the Scourge at bay for a week straight. She’s the reason my people still exist. She was the strongest woman I’ve ever known,” she said, gripping her warblade tighter as it fell by her side. “I know you can hear me through her, Arthas. You’re a coward! And I’m coming for you!”

“You aren’t strong enough,” said the taunting voice coming from Sylvanas as she trained her sabre onto the other woman. “If you were, you would have saved your General.”

“Then I’ll just have to do it now,” Anevay said, raising her warblade again.

Sylvanas advanced forward, swinging her sabre down onto Anevay’s head. Anevay parried and swung with the other blade, striking the sabre hard enough to throw Sylvanas’ arm off it’s mark. Despite her desire for a fight, and to kill Arthas, she hesitated with the opening she had created. Sylvanas had time to recover and attack again. She should kill her. Of course she should. Sylvanas died in the fields of Eversong. This creature was just a mockery of her, inhabiting her body as a grisly trophy of her own murder.

But then Anevay remembered the way her spirit had looked once Arthas tore it from her body. Agony, misery, grief. She’d been herself in the moments before Arthas exerted control over her. And those eyes. They did not glow the same ice blue as all of his other minions. Instead, they glowed blood red, burning with the fire of barely repressed ranger. Those were not the eyes of a mindless drone. No, the Sylvanas she knew… the Sylvanas she loved… was still in there. 

Were all Undead still themselves underneath the Death Knight’s control?

Her introspection nearly cost her an eye as Sylvanas’ blade came dangerously close to her mark before Anevay could think to juke away in time. She remained on the defensive, evading and shunting strikes as she continued to ponder to herself. 

“The defensive won’t save you,” Sylvanas chided coldly. “In the end, death claims us all.”

“Death might claim me, but Quel’Thalas will live on,” Anevay spat as she parried another blow. “And there’s nothing your Master can do to stop that!”

“Your people fell to the Scourge once,” Sylvanas countered, the bloody glow to her eyes flaring suddenly. _“They will fall again.”_

Anevay parried another overhead strike. She dropped her off-hand blade and stepped forward, grasping Sylvanas’ wrist and wrenching it away. She drove her knee into her midsection before grabbing her upper arm and flipping her over her shoulder. The sabre flew from her hand as she hit the ground, a warblade pointed at her neck.

Sylvanas looked up at the elf that had her weapon trained on her. Just a single downward thrust and this undead mockery of the Ranger General would be no more. Crimson eyes narrowed as she studied Anevay’s expression carefully, seeing flickers of countless, unreadable emotions. 

“...What are you waiting for? Do it.” That wasn’t a taunt. It wasn’t a command either. As she spoke, the haunting echo her voice seemed to have withdrawn almost completely. Without it, her voice sounded strained. More vulnerable. More natural. More… Sylvanas. 

_“Do it.”_

Anevay pulled her warblade away and dropped it into the dirt, stumbling back from Sylvanas’ prone form and leaning against a tree.

“I can’t…” she whispered. 

Crimson eyes widened in surprise. Surprise that swiftly shifted to incredulity and then outrage. “What… what do you mean? You’ve won! Finish it!”

Anevay shook her head, leaning against the tree lest her legs give out from underneath her. “I can’t. I can’t kill you… I love you too much…”

She watched as Sylvanas pulled herself up from the dirt. Her burning eyes flared with anger. Anger that wouldn’t make sense for a slave of the Lich King to have. Why would she be angry about-

The Dark Ranger dashed forward in a blur of motion, collecting the dropped warblade from the ground before pressing its edge firmly against Anevay’s throat. Not firmly enough to cut, however. 

“Then I will kill _you,_ ” she sneered. “And let you join in my suffering!”

Anevay looked up at Sylvanas with something that the Dark Ranger would almost recognize as fear, but it was cloaked in something else. Relief. Acceptance. The Ranger had come here to die. “Then just get it over with,” she whispered.

Those burning eyes continued to flare until Anevay could see the fire behind them showing through her pale skin. The blade pressed to Anevay’s throat just that little more, but still not enough to break the delicate skin. In fact, the hand that was holding the blade appeared to be trembling. Her eyes clamped shut as dark lips curled back to reveal teeth that were clenched tightly. As though she were in pain.

“What are you waiting for?” Anevay asked weakly as she felt the blade press harder against her neck. “Just do it and correct your mistake.”

The hand only trembled harder as Sylvanas’ expression grew even more pained. There was absolute silence between them for the longest time before Sylvanas managed to get one word out through gritted teeth. 

_“No.”_

The Dark Ranger suddenly contorted, the warblade dropping from her grasp as she threw her head back to let loose a scream of agony. Legs that could no longer feel weariness of any kind suddenly gave out from under her as she collapsed and crumpled to the ground. The screaming did not stop.

Anevay watched in horror as Sylvanas continued to scream, clapping her hands back to her ears. What had happened? Why was she suddenly-

She winced as she felt a sudden wave that felt oddly like Fel magic reverberate through the air. Almost like an explosion. It would have been too faint to detect had she not been an elf, and so in tune with magic that she could feel the ley lines in the earth thrum beneath her feet. Even if she had no affinity for practicing the arcane, she was as ever aware of her presence as any of her kind. 

It was uncertain if Sylvanas felt any of that, however. She still hadn’t stopped screaming. Hands that sported clawed gauntlets dug into her hair from beneath her cloak as she continued to writhe in pain. 

“LEAVE!” she cried out through clenched teeth.

Anevay stepped closer, pulling her hands down from her ears and kneeling down beside Sylvanas. “Are you alright?” she asked. “What’s happening?”

“I said **_leave_ **!”

“Sylvanas, please!” Anevay begged, tears beginning to well in her eyes. “Just tell me what is wrong! Maybe I can help!”

But Sylvanas could barely hear her anymore. She couldn’t hear much of anything beyond the voice that was hammering in her skull. The voice she had always struggled against becoming louder and more demanding than ever before. 

**_“Kill her,”_ ** she heard the voice demand. **_“Unmake her and bring her into my thrall. Raise her into my Scourge! Obey!”_ **

_“No!”_

**_“Obey!”_ **

_“NO!!!”_

**_“OBEY!!!”_ **

**_“NO!!!”_ **

Sylvanas pulled her head out from the dirt and let loose an unhinged wail into the sky above. A small display of the agony produced by her mind suddenly going white hot. It was as if something in her very psyche was breaking in the most excruciating way. Anevay reached out to her, when another surge of Fel magic echoed across the Plaguelands. This time it actually hurt, and seared at her skin like a fire that had grown too large. She turned her gaze toward the horizon, to see green lightning bolts striking at something far off into the distance, across the ocean. At this distance, the power must have been immense.

It surged again, and Anevay winced in pain, feeling her chest start to burn. She looked back down at Sylvanas with concern. She didn’t want to just leave her here.

Not again.

She grabbed Sylvanas under the arms and hauled her writing corpse toward the ruins of an old house. She pulled her inside and set her down against the wall. Pulling a few crystals out of her satchel, she set them around the house and ignited them with a piece of flint. They thrummed with faint arcane energy, enough to blend into the ley lines that ran underfoot.

“I don’t know what’s going on, but this should shield you from being found by the Scourge until it’s passed,” she said, feeling exhausted and stumbling as another surge of Fel echoed across the plains. “...I don’t know if you’re still in there or not, but…” she trailed off and looked away from her. It was too much.

“ _Kill me_ ,” Sylvanas choked out, hiding her face beneath her cloak. “End my torment.”

Anevay froze when she heard that, and turned back to face her. Sylvanas was begging for death, just as she had a few moments ago. She was in pain. She was _still_ being tortured. It would only be a kindness to end her suffering. But she just couldn’t do it.

“...I’m sorry,” she whispered, turning away from her again. “I just can’t…”

Sylvanas snarled in frustration and agony, her hands still clutching onto her head painfully. “Something… in my head. Breaking,” she choked. “...It hurts.”

Anevay felt her eyes sting and she forced herself to leave the house. There was nothing else she could do. She knew nothing about what was going on with Sylvanas, and the only thing she could think of was to kill her. And that… wasn’t an option.

She ignored the pained screams as best she could as she ran back toward Quel’thalas.

* * *

**Four Months Later**

Regular patrols of Lordaeron just outside the borders of Quel’Thalas had become mandatory after Anevay’s ill-fated suicide attempt. The knowledge that the Scourge was still highly active and that single individuals were powerful enough to pose a threat had put Lor’themar, now Regent-Lord of Quel’Thalas, on high alert. Anevay had been part of a rotating group of Rangers that were sent into Lordaeron to act as the first pair of eyes for a second invasion. It was dreary work, and the Rangers accompanying her were under orders to stop her if she tried to run off again.

As they stepped through the Eastern Plaguelands, the four of them immediately went on high alert when they heard the snarling of a ghoul in the distance.

“Hold,” Anevay commanded, lifting her hand and stepping ahead. The three followed along behind her over the hill and into a clearing, where they saw a shambling corpse with a broken leg trying to get back up. The Rangers nocked arrows, ready to strike the creature down, when it suddenly turned toward them and froze.

Anevay could have sworn she saw fear in its eyes.

The ghoul held up the arm that wasn’t holding itself up and said “Don’t hurt me! Please!”

Anevay blinked. Did the Ghoul just… speak. 

“I-I don’t mean you any harm!” the creature continued to blubber. “I was just… hungry!”

“Lower your weapons,” Anevay said to the Rangers as she approached the creature. It sounded like a man. Almost. A man who had done a great deal of smoking in his life. She knelt down beside him and looked him over. “You can speak?”

“Y-Yes,” the ghoul said, looking less likely to try and flee from the company despite his broken leg, if only just. “I… I couldn’t for awhile. Couldn’t remember how… then I did.”

Anevay tilted her head slightly. “You aren’t a servant of the Lich King anymore?”

“N-No,” the man shook his head. “I am… Forsaken.”

“Forsaken? What does that mean?” Anevay asked, glancing at the man’s broken leg.

“I… when I… came back, I would hear the Lich King’s voice in my head,” the ghoul explained. “He would tell me where to go and what to do. Then… one day… I felt this intense pan. Like-like something in my mind was _breaking._ And then… silence.” The ghoul cast his gaze down to the ground. “I don’t hear him anymore. I’m all alone.”

“Are there others like you?” Anevay asked.

The ghoul nodded. “In the Undercity. The Dark Lady rallied us. Gave us purpose. Set us on the path of vengeance. Against _him_.”

Anevay reached into her quiver and pulled out a few arrows, snapping the heads and fletching off and reached down to pull the ghoul’s leg back into place. “Who is this Dark Lady?” she asked as she started to splint his leg.

“She’s a banshee,” the ghoul explained, nearly flinching away from Anevay before he realized what she was doing. “The strongest among them. She helped some of us break free. Her name is…” he trailed off, his ghastly visage appearing pensive and frustrated. “Ugh! Stupid rotting brain! Her name is… Sy… Sylvia-? Silve..”

Anevay froze as she was splinting his leg and slowly met his eye. “...Sylvanas Windrunner?” she asked. “Is that her?”

“Yes! That’s it!” the ghoul exclaimed. “Thank you! That was going to bother me all day!”

The other rangers looked positively shocked. “Sylvanas? The old Ranger General? How is that possible?” 

“She was raised into undeath by Arthas! But- how could she have broken free?”

“Maybe she didn’t. This ghoul might be trying to lead us into a trap.”

“No I’m not!” he called out indignantly. “And please don’t call me a ghoul! I have a name!”

“What _is_ your name, sir?” Anevay asked as she finished binding his leg.

“...Belmont,” he said, sitting up and gingerly feeling his leg. 

Anevay reached into her pack and pulled out some smoked meat and handed it to him. “Here, Belmont. You said you were hungry?”

Belmont blinked with surprise. “Oh… um, thank you,” he said, accepting the meat that was offered to him. 

The other rangers looked perturbed by the sight, but chose not to comment on it. “Um… Captain. What do we do now?” one of them asked.

“Let him go,” Anevay said, standing up and offering a hand to Belmont, helping him to his feet. “As far as I’m concerned he isn’t hostile. And these… _Forsaken…_ could be potential allies in the future.”

Pensive and troubled looks were exchanged all around. The other elves appeared hesitant to follow those orders to say the least… but follow them they did. 

“As you command, Captain.” 

Belmont watched as the other rangers withdrew, turning his attention back to Anevay. “...Thank you for that,” he rasped out. 

“No thanks necessary,” Anevay shook her head. “I… I was a friend to Lady Sylvanas in life. I can only hope I’ll remain one in death. You should return to your home.”

“Understood,” Belmont said with a nod. “I can… maybe tell the Dark Lady that I ran into you. What should I call you?”

“...Anevay,” she said after a moment of hesitation. “My name is Anevay.”

“Anevay,” Belmont parroted. “Well… I will certainly carry that name over to her… if I can remember it.” With a single, sheepish look, he disembarked, the limp in his splintered leg only slight.

“Safe journeys, Belmont,” Anevay nodded as she turned to follow her Rangers back to Quel’Thalas.

Hearing that Sylvanas was leading a group of free Undead was… soothing. It was perhaps the best news she’d ever heard since the Fall. In the last year, she'd gone from being numb to so wrought with despair she sought out her own death in these cursed lands. But as she watched Belmont limp away, she found herself... reinvigorated to an extent. Perhaps not everything _was_ lost. If these shambling corpses could pick themselves up and rebuild, maybe she could as well.

Anevay smiled as she caught up with the Rangers. She wondered if she'd ever see Sylvanas again.


	9. Forgive me, Lady Sylvanas

**Year 26 - Shortly After the Restoration of the Sunwell**

Anevay didn’t want to be in the Undercity again. Not after the last time. But as she clutched the sapphire pendant in her hand, she knew that no amount of grief over Alina’s rejection could be allowed to stop her from doing this. She’d found Sylvanas’ pendant in the dirt of Windrunner Spire, identifying it immediately based on the inscription inside. She knew then and there that she’d have to return it. She’d even gone AWOL just to bring it here after Lor’themar refused to sanction a journey to the Undercity. 

But it had only been six months since she’d last been here. Where she’d barely spoken to Sylvanas out of fear, and where she’d been thrown aside by her now ex-fiance. 

She took a deep breath as the Throne Room became visible, and stepped inside. Sylvanas was sat on her throne on it’s raised dias, looking quite bored while Varimathras chattered her ear off about placement of soldiers. The both of them looked up when Anevay walked in, both of them scowling.

“Why do you disturb the Dark Lady, she-elf!” Varimathras demanded.

Anevay turned a glare toward Varimathras. After Outland and Quel’Danas, she was quite frankly tired of Demons.  “Quiet, Demon,” she spat. “I just flushed your Master out of the Sunwell not too long ago, I wouldn’t test me if I were you. My business is with the Dark Lady, not you.”

The Dreadlord snarled. “My  _ business _ is to ensure that the Dark Lady isn’t bothered by every sewer rat that crawls in her you-”

“Enough of your posturing, Varimathras,” Sylvanas huffed, casting an annoyed eye at Anevay. “Lady Darkflare. This is not the first time you’ve stepped foot in my Throne Room.”

Anevay immediately composed herself and bowed before Sylvanas. “No it’s not, Dark Lady. And this time I’ve come to speak to you.”

“And why is that?” Sylvanas inquired, a hint of curiosity in her tone. “You understand that I am a busy woman, Darkflare. I trust what you’ve come to say won’t be a waste of my time.”

Anevay stepped closer to the throne and held out the necklace in her palm. “I found this in Quel’Thalas. The inscription said it belonged to you, Dark lady. I felt it only right to return it.”

Sylvanas narrowed her eyes before rising from her throne to take the pendant. She looked upon it momentarily, the sapphire that gleamed on the front bringing the hints of puzzlement to her face. As if she recognized the trinket, but couldn’t place from where or why. It was only when she turned it around to read the aforementioned inscription that clarity dawned on her. 

This was her pendant. The pendant gifted to her by Alleria.  Sylvanas remained as quiet as the grave for a moment.  “...It can’t be,” she whispered, barely audible despite the powerful echo to her voice. “After all this time, I thought it was lost forever…”

“It had been trampled into the dirt, probably by the Scourge,” Anevay explained. “I did my best to clean it, Lady Sylvanas.”

It looked as though Sylvanas very nearly flinched at Anevay’s voice. As if she suddenly remembered that she was there. Her attentioned returned to the Blood Elf and her expression hardened. “...And what good did bringing this to me do?” she inquired coldly. “Did you think it would bring me some sort of joy? Did you expect to see a moment of weakness from me?” 

She released her grip on the pendant’s chain, causing it to fall to the ground before her with a sharp clink. “A useless relic of a bygone era. I have no need for it.”

Anevay stepped back cautiously. “I… only thought to return something that belonged to you, Lady Sylvanas. If you think there was an ulterior motive, you’re wrong.”

“I don’t care what you thought to do, girl,” Sylvanas said snidely. “All you’ve managed to accomplish with this is waste your time as well as mine. Now, unless you have something of actual importance to bring to my attention, I suggest you leave.  _ Now _ .”

Anevay flinched at Sylvanas’ harsh tone and bowed her head. “Forgive me, Lady Sylvanas,” she said, the tiniest hint of bitterness in her voice. “I was your friend in life, and I thought you would want your necklace returned to you. I was _clearly_ mistaken. I will not trouble you again,” she said, turning around and slowly heading for the door.

Her hands balled into fists as she felt anger and frustration well up inside her. It happened again. She came to this place a second time only to be scornfully dismissed by someone she once cared for. Why did she not see this coming? Why did she come back to this place? Why didn’t she leave that blasted thing buried and lost in the Ghostlands where it belonged?  In her slow, bitter trudging out of the Royal Quarter, she did not see the hard look on Sylvanas’ face waver. She did not see those crimson eyes fall down to the pendant that remained unscatched despite it’s fall. However, she did hear something just as she was still traversing through that narrow, windy corridor. Something melodious, beautiful, but also very very sad. 

Singing. A song in her native tongue. 

Anevay turned her head back around to the source. It was coming from the Royal Quarter. She did not know exactly why she sought it out, only that she felt as though she had to. It was like a Siren’s call intended to lure unsuspecting sailors to their doom. Only what she found when she cautiously peeked back inside the Royal Quarter was not doom.  It was Sylvanas and a group of Banshees. They were the ones that were singing that hauntingly beautiful song. 

Anevay watched, caught in what felt like a spell as the five of them sang out, almost like a choir. Nobody else remained in the Throne Room. Sylvanas believed she was alone. Away from the scrutinizing gaze of others.  As the song died down, Sylvanas sighed and knelt down to pick up the necklace, holding it tightly to her chest.

“Lady Sun,” Sylvanas whispered, her eyes closed and her voice on the verge of cracking.

Anevay withdrew completely from the room after that. Whatever Sylvanas was experiencing was far too raw, too vulnerable, for any unwanted spectators.  “...Goodbye, Sylvanas,” she whispered as she retreated down the hallway again. “I’ll miss you. Probably more than anyone.”


End file.
